Strange Fruit

Bryn Colvin

STRANGE FRUIT BY BRYN COLVIN Venus Press LLC

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

STRANGE FRUIT Copyright © 2006 by Bryn Colvin ISBN: 1-59836-352-2 Cover Art © 2006 by Dan Skinner All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

For Jonathan

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Chapter One

In one of the few patches of sunlight on the forest floor, an almost human figure circled a smaller stationary counterpart. Dray considered the being, and decided it was good enough for his purposes. Its skin looked softer than his, making it passably similar to the incomers. By contrast, his own flesh was gnarled and lined, more like bark than anything else. “What name will you give her?” Leon asked. The barely substantial male had kept his distance until now, watching the unravelling scene from beside the vast trunk of Dray’s ancient tree. “I had given it no thought.” “Everything must have a name. Without a name, there can be no direction, no purpose, no self,” Leon pressed. “I provide the direction and purpose. It needs no self.” Leon stepped forward, his dark hair glinting in the slanting rays of sunlight. He was as tall as Dray but, while the dark-skinned man looked as ancient as the forest itself, Leon had a pale youthfulness to him. “I have seen them fleetingly. If your little one is to learn of them, she must speak to them. She requires a voice, an identity. Call her soul into her and quicken her with the gift of a name.” Dray shrugged. “Name her yourself if it troubles you so much.” Leon smiled with obvious satisfaction. This was very much the invitation he sought. Dray was never an imaginative namer of things and it seemed a pity to bestow some obvious, insipid identifier on this unusual creature. Dray returned to the shade of the great trunk, leaning against the bark so that his skin blended with it and he almost vanished from view. Leon watched him for a few moments, then turned his attention towards the new being. She was short, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Where Leon had long hair growing from his head, this one had dark feathers sticking out in all directions. There were further patches of unruly plumage on her shoulders, hips and at the base of her spine. Like the incomer females, she had 5

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small, pert breasts topped with dark nipples. Her eyes were closed, and she stood perfectly still, showing no signs of life or awareness. Breathing in deeply, Leon cupped her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers. He prised open her rigid lips, exhaling slowly so that the air passed from his body into hers. She tasted sweet, like one of the vast flowers from high in the canopy. Three times he emptied his lungs into hers before standing back. Colour touched her face, and her chest continued to rise and fall in the manner of all truly living creatures. Looking at her, Leon felt it would be wrong to name her for something else. He wanted this one to be unique, to have a touch of individuality and so he determined to bless her with a name created just for her. Sounds came to him, flashes of inspiration that meshed, mingled and fell away from each other in ever changing combinations until at last he found the word he needed. He bent close again, his face against her soft feathers as he murmured her name into each ear in turn. “Iylla.” This time her eyes flickered open, bright and full of questioning intelligence. Her gaze moved sharply from one thing to another, absorbing the details of her surroundings. She regarded him thoughtfully as he continued his work. “I bless you with the power of speech and comprehension, may you understand the words of those you encounter and may you learn swiftly,” Leon murmured. Her eyes glowed a dark gold, the orbs large in her narrow face. Leon could see the soul that had awoken in her, fiercely beautiful and dangerous. Iylla raised her taloned hands, examining them closely. In response, Leon held his own hand up, bringing his fingertips to meet hers. She compared them, his slightly larger than hers, and lacking those sharp and dangerous protrusions. With tentative prods, she explored her face, then reached out to him, tracing the line of his jaw. He shivered, aware that she had broken the skin he wore. He saw her eyes widen with surprise, then her nose twitched, sniffing his spilled fluids. With a hand on his shoulder, she stretched up, lifting her heels off the ground. Leon felt her tongue licking at his cheek, lapping up the droplets there. Warm breath caressed his skin, her tongue rough like lisles, her grip on his shoulders was firm. Leon knew the forest creatures well, from the tiniest beings that skittered in the leaf-litter to the huge emery’s who swam in the river estuaries. If he sought them, they were welcoming, if he ignored them, they did not see him. This newly formed being, this Iylla had his breath in her, but her mind was her own. Interacting with such a being was as new and alien to him as to her, this gentle contact of skin on skin, this novel form of exploration. He touched the feathers on her head, and their counterparts on her shoulders. 6

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“Have you finished?” Leon had forgotten about Dray’s presence, but the sound of his husky voice changed that. “What do you mean to do with her?” “Send her into the forest to find the incomers. I wish to learn of them, but they move too quickly for me.” Leon understood this. He also knew that if he went with her, he would hamper her. Still, he was reluctant to see her go. “If she stays she will know too much, I do not want her to tell any stories of us,” Dray said. “What makes you think she will come back?” Leon asked. “When I summon her, she will obey me. I will allow her one full cycle of the moon.” Dray moved in closer, then touched the flat of his palm to Iylla’s forehead. Her eyes widened briefly. “Go,” he instructed. She flashed a look at Leon, and he caught something in her face that seemed like reluctance, or regret. “I will see you again,” he said. It was a promise he meant to keep. Iylla nodded, apparently accepting his words. Without asking where she should go, or what she should do, she turned and began to walk. After a few steps, she took to her toes, running over the soft undergrowth and sprinting between the trees. She was lost from sight all too quickly. “And now?” Leon asked. “I will wait,” Dray replied, “and consult with my brethren.” He returned to the tree, pressing his hands against the bark. Leon watched him as his form became less apparent against the gnarled bulk of the trunk. In a heart-beat, all semblance of humanoid existence was gone, and only the enormous tree remained, vast and impassive. Leon gazed up, seeing the dark clusters of leaves hanging from the branches far above him. He wondered what was fruiting there. When the moon’s cycle was complete, he would return to see what had become of Iylla.

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Chapter Two

It took days of hard work to clear the hill-top of trees. There were three people who did nothing during that time but fashion new axe heads from the hard rock they had found. Splitting the timbers from felled trunks gave them planks from which shelters could be made, but it would take time to make the space for building. Silla had been on her feet since dawn, overseeing the work and marking the places where the first shelters would be built. As the tall trees came crashing down, sunlight penetrated through the gaps, revealing a rich diversity of colours. She and her people had been travelling on foot through this forest for what seemed like months, seldom seeing the sun aside from the beams that fell through the dense branches. They had lived in an alien world of cool green and long shadows, but now they were basking in the light again, and had found a place to call home. Quin stood with her arms open, fingers reaching into the sky, her eyes shut and her expression ecstatic. The jewelled talisman on her chest glinted in the light. Silla watched her athro for a long time, thinking that this long-absent expression of joy and serenity must bode well for them all. After years of wandering without a home, they would at last be able to return to their traditional ways of living. A fire pit had been dug that afternoon, and lined with flat stones. Each member of the kith had placed some small item in the great basin – kindling that would soon spark with life as the sacred flame consumed it. Silla felt glad to be able to give time over to such things once more. Quin’s arms fell to her side, and her eyes opened. “Does he speak to you?” Silla asked. “He is pleased. We have come to the place he chose for us, and we will be safe here, surrounded by bounty and free from hunger.” “That is good. Does he ask anything of us?” “That the first capture the hunt makes tonight we give over to the flames in his honour.” “I will make sure his will is known.” “It is good to feel the blessed sun on my skin again,” Quin said. 8

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Silla tilted her head back so that she could feel the warm light caressing her face, conscious of the golden colours even through closed eyelids. “Hail to the Blessed Sun,” Silla intoned. She opened her eyes, and pulled Quin close, grasping the bright eyed athro in her strong arms. “You kept us strong, and you guided us well my friend,” she whispered. “We did it together my Silla, you and I, Ril, and Vin and all the rest of the company. We kept our courage. I am proud to have been a part of that, but I cannot claim the whole,” Quin replied. “I want to rest,” Silla sighed, her lips close to Quin’s ear so that no one else would hear her weary confession. “I didn’t realise until I saw the sun today. I am so tired my Quin.” “There will be time enough for that soon. We are all weary love.” Silla sighed. There was so much still to be done. Dwelling places to build, water sources to locate. Food must be hunted and ground prepared. There would be no rest for days yet, if not longer. All she wanted to do was lie down in the warmth of the sun and sleep, never to wake again. She had carried the burden of responsibility too long, and through the most desperate of times. She had seen most of her people torn apart by war, and many of the rest killed by drought and hunger. There were days when she did not know how she found the will to keep going. Quin pulled away, putting her hands on Silla’s shoulders and looking into her face. They were of an age, these two hardy, weather-worn women, who had lived and loved alongside one another since infancy. In Quin’s strong features, with lines at the corners of her eyes and a faint smile touching her lips, Silla saw something to remind her why she must struggle on. “You will find the strength,” Quin promised her. Silla smiled. “You give me strength and shame my weakness,” she replied. “I must organise a hunt if we are to feast tonight.” After the sheer joy of sunlight, plunging back into the gloom and shade of the forest was enough to dampen all their spirits. Having guessed this must happen, Silla took those she trusted most, who were strong of will and certain of courage. Hunting amidst the tangling, twining undergrowth was far harder than pursuing prey on the wide plains had been. At least here there was game aplenty, while their homeland had been reduced to little more than a parched and barren dessert. Trees pressed down around them, some only a little taller than they, others whose dark heads extended high above, blocking out the sunlight. Some bore fruits and nuts, but 9

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they were still in the process of finding out what was safe to eat, and what would poison. Learning such lessons had already cost them lives, but hungry people would take what they could and they had few choices. Charn hunted at his mother’s side, light on his feet and dextrous with his spear. He was almost a man, Silla realised. He had matured during their travels, and was now slightly taller than her. When had he grown so tall? She could see her father moving through the trees a little way to her left, and beyond him, the familiar figure of Vin, the glinting red pelt across his shoulders distinctive even in this uncanny twilight. To her right, Slen and Tirol kept pace. Looking round, she could see no sign of either Fenny or Glane, and could only hope they had not become separated from the rest. “I’m going to cut paths through this forest,” she said, “open it up so that no one can lose their way. I don’t care how long it takes.” Her son nodded, wordless. He had never been one for much speaking. The ground was uneven, full of twisting roots, fallen logs and unexpected holes. Running was difficult, and hunting as a team impossible. It was as much as they could do to keep each other in sight. Silla’s heart ached for the freedom of an open sky. These endless trees seemed to press down upon her, closing her in while they harboured unknown dangers that might spring forth at any moment. There were things high above in the branches, but whether they were birds or animals, she could not tell. Charn froze at her side, then Silla felt his hand gripping her arm. She followed the direction of his pointing finger, watching for signs of movement. The forest was still and deathly quiet, smotheringly so. Silla felt as though she could hardly breathe, as if the moist, earthy air of the place was too dense for inhaling. A branch moved, but there was no wind. Then her eyes picked out the shape that had so startled Charn. The figure was like nothing Silla had seen before. It was adult, female, with jet black hair, and utterly naked. The woman did not even wear shoes. Silla remained very still. The other woman appeared unarmed, but there was no knowing if there might be others close by or if this was a trap. There had been no sign of people in the forest before. This creature was not like them, Silla realised. The stranger took a tentative step forwards, then another one. Her eyes glowed like setting suns, dominating her narrow face. Nothing about her approach seemed threatening. Silla lowered her spear, letting the point drop towards the earth to indicate that she meant no violence. Charn followed, only a heart-beat slower. “Can you understand me?” Silla asked, expecting nothing. “Yes.” The voice was breathy, like leaves stirred by the wind. “What do you want?” 10

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“To find you,” the strange woman replied. “Why?” “That is my purpose.” “Who sent you to me?” “My maker.” Silla glanced at her son, and from the brilliance of his eyes and the restless enthusiasm of his posture, she could tell he thought the same as she. “Then you should come with us,” she said. As she came closer, both mother and son realised this forest woman did not wear her hair in spikes as they did. The feathers protruding from her scalp made it all too clear they were in a place where they knew nothing, and where anything might be possible. “What are you?” Charn asked. Silla could hear a tremor of nervousness in her son’s voice. “I am myself.” It was no answer at all. “What is your name?” Charn asked. “Iylla.” “I am Silla, this is Charn. Will you come with us then?” “Yes.” Even though Silla knew this forest being might pose considerable danger to her people, she found it captivating. For a long time, she simply stood and watched, taking in the shape of this peculiar female’s body enchanted by her sheer otherness. After a while, reason prevailed. It took then a while to find the rest of the hunting party as the shadows grew longer and the first hints of night crept between the trees. Silla whistled long and shrill, and at last corresponding cries came thin and faint from the forest. Her hunters were returning. Between them, they had taken numerous small birds and mammals – not enough meat for a feast, but better fare than they had enjoyed for many days. Since their arrival in the forest they had caught occasional glimpses of larger game, but had only caught a few such creatures in all their wanderings. The trees teemed with life, but none of the forest’s denizens were easy to hunt. Find them, learn from then, understand them. The instructions had been clear enough. Iylla lived and breathed by these instructions for days, racing through the forests in search of this company of people. Dray had placed fleeting images of them in her mind so that she could recognise her quarry. They were sturdy and dark skinned with blue 11

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markings on their faces, and thick fur on their bodies. Only now that she saw one of them in person did she understand that those were borrowed pelts, hunted from other creatures. Their true skin was as smooth as her own. The ones she had found seemed pleased to see her and she supposed that was good. They took sidelong glances at her as they walked. She was different from them in many ways. It came as no surprise that they would want to look at her as much as she was keen to examine them. The journey Silla led her on afforded them all opportunities for mutual inspection. Their path took them up one of the many steep inclines in the forest. In days of running Iylla had found hills and gorges, rivers, caves and many secret places. There had been no time to explore and wonder, but with her quarry discovered, she could give herself over entirely to learning and understanding. The path they took led them to behold a monstrous sight. Iylla had seen fallen trees, there were many such on the forest floor, but they seldom came close together, and many were covered in plants. These naked trunks lay dead upon the bare soil, a vast expanse of forest ruined and barren. The scene sickened her. Amongst the fallen giants moved countless dark skinned people, all wrapped in assorted furs and bearing the same blue markings that Silla had. Only Charn and other short people seemed not to have them. Iylla wondered if the markings came when you were bigger, or if the short people were something different from the tall ones. In the unnatural clearing, the light glared down, bright and searing. Iylla froze at the tree line, not knowing how to move forward into this frightening place. Those around her seemed unperturbed, so she gritted her teeth and walked with them. She felt eyes turning her way, curious stares drawn by her nudity and her feathers. Iylla guessed she was the first humanoid forest dweller they had encountered. She had seen no other beings like herself. Leon and Dray were of another order entirely. Her nature and existence remained a mystery to her, but these were things to which she had given little thought. The sky was a dark orange above them, and wisps of clouds glowed with hints of pinks and yellows. Iylla had never seen anything like it. On the floor of the forest, the light was never so dazzling. Where there were rivers or glades, the light came down in golden shafts, brilliant and startling, but these were rare places. This great vista of revealed sky took her breath away. “Come on,” Silla encouraged. “The sun will set soon, and we must light the sacred fire before night falls.” Iylla did not really understand her, but followed anyway.

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There was a woman waiting for them, with a trace of blue lines on her forehead and something on her chest that sparkled when the light caught it. Her furs were sleek and smooth, dark pelts with streaks of white that encased her body. “Bring to me the first fruits of your hunt,” the woman demanded. Iylla saw Silla tense and look at those around her. “We separated,” she said, “I am not sure what was taken first.” They talked amongst themselves, but Silla kept looking in Iylla’s direction, her expression uncertain, as though she was looking for some sort of answer. Eventually she took Iylla’s arm and pulled her forwards, exposing her to the woman’s scrutiny. “Quin, this was the first thing I found. Her name is Iylla and she says her maker sent her to us.” The women exchanged looks. “Do you think he has sent her to us so that we may honour him?” Silla asked. Quin studied Iylla carefully. “Perhaps her eyes could be marks of his favour. It is hard to be certain, but where else could she come from? Who else would send her to us?” “I do not know.” Quin glanced at the sky. “The sun is sinking, he will not hear me now if I call to him, and the fire must be lit. You have no reason to think she is the first thing your company found. I will take Tirol’s bird, the one with the brilliant plumage. It is fitting as an offering.” Iylla saw that the many other people who had been scattered through the fallen trees now came closer, circling the woman. There were more of them than she knew how to count. Only the circle of trees beyond seemed to outnumber them. Silence fell. No one moved or spoke and even the wind seemed to lull. The bird was still and limp as Quin placed it on the pile of twigs and branches. Iylla watched, fascinated. Quin took a pouch from somewhere about her person and held up two unremarkable-looking stones. “Hail to the Blessed Sun,” she intoned. “Hail to the magic of fire and to the gift of warmth and heat. We honour you with the first kill of the hunt, with this beauteous bird whose plumage echoes your glory. I invoke the power of the spark, that our sacred fire might burn through this night and keep the sun alive while we await the dawn.” With that, she clashed the stones together and a shower of sparks rained down on the tinder. Iylla stared, mouth open and eyes wide as tiny, flickering lights appeared along the twigs. They grew at a tremendous pace, becoming larger and brighter by the second until the air was full of crackling sounds and the smell of acrid smoke. Her eyes stung and her lungs ached. This was the fire they had spoken of, she realised. It licked at 13

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plant and bird alike, racing over them and leaving only black corruption in its wake. It was a terrible, fearful thing. Heat radiated from it, forcing her to step back. She feared those treacherous dancing lights might take hold of her own flesh and unmake her just as they were destroying the beautiful bird. Around her there was shouting, cheering and laughter. Her instinct was to run and hide, but her orders were to stay and learn. She trembled, torn between two terrible inclinations. Wood was pressed into her hands, wood as she had never seen it before. The grains spoke to her, reminding her of an ancient tree, long fallen. The whole had been cut and shaped, and in its rounded centre something liquid stood. “Drink from the bowl,” Silla instructed her. Bowl. Iylla nodded and raised it to her mouth. It was only water, soft and tasting a little of earthy soil. She lapped at it thirstily, then handed it back. “We will eat, there will be singing and storytelling. This is our first night here and people need to celebrate. We will talk in the morning.”

**** Silla moved amongst her people, sharing in their celebration. Although her body was weary, it gladdened her heart to see so many of them smiling and laughing. They had survived war and famine, they had travelled far beyond the lands of their ancestors, and now they had found a new place to call home. Here in this forest they could carve out a new life, blessed with abundance. Gradually, the night came down as the sun slipped away from the sky. Tonight the darkness did not seem so oppressive. They had room enough to build a fire that would ward off the shadows and keep them safe until daybreak. Silla laughed and talked. It was a long while since she was last able to do any of these things naturally, without having to pretend a confidence she did not feel. “Look!” The cry went up from around the camp. Silla turned her eyes to the heavens and gazed in wonder at the sight which greeted her. From the direction of the rising sun came an orange light, not as big as a new dawn but glowing vibrantly against the darkened sky. With every heart beat it grew larger, expanding from a brilliant dot on the horizon. They stared in silent awe, parents lifting children up so that they could gain a better view. As this nameless phenomena rapidly grew, Silla realised the remarkable orb was moving across the sky – like a shooting star, but bigger, or closer perhaps. The air was rent by a low rumble that grew in force, becoming louder than any thunder they had ever heard, as it echoed through the forest. It sounded as though the night was being torn apart by giant hands. The fiery wonder burned across the sky, distant from them - a golden, 14

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flaming ball that rolled like a tiny sun from horizon to horizon. Great burning sparks dropped from its sides, falling towards the earth. Behind it came a vast crimson tail, and as they saw it come into view, they recognised its shape – that of a tree. Burning branches filled the heavens, hiding the stars from view and continuing to smoulder long after the blazing sphere had vanished from sight. At last the aching thunder ended, and the forest fell ominously quiet. It was a long time before the last of the colour faded from the sky. They all remained still and spellbound until all traces of this powerful vision had gone. Gradually, sound returned, with laugher and weeping mingling together. “They are going to ask me what it means,” Quin said, her mouth close to Silla’s ear. “What do you think it means?” Silla replied. “I don’t know. I have heard tell of comets but they are smaller by far and slow to cross the skies. I do not know what it is or what it means.” “Then make something up. They will see it for a sign and want to know if it bodes good or ill.” “I will do what I can, my Silla.” “Slip away. If anyone asks for you, I will say you are in a trance and cannot be disturbed. You must have something for me by morning.” “I will.” Did their God mean it is a sign, or was it something else entirely? Silla wondered. She was no athro, but a sun that burned the sky by night cried out to her as an expression of the deity she honoured. She lacked the insight to understand it, but despite her cynical words she hungered for an explanation as she knew the rest of her people would. “I will compose something epic in honour of this night,” Vin said, appearing from the crowd to rest his hand easily on her waist. “We have found our home, and a midnight sun shone down upon our celebrations.” “Do you think that is the meaning of it?” she asked, turning towards him. “Do you doubt it?” his voice lost all its previous playfulness and he looked down into her face. “I don’t know what I think. I’m waiting to hear what Quin decides.” “Where is she?” “Deep in meditation.” Vin glanced around them. His hand stole across the bottom of Silla’s ribs. She sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do for the time being, and welcoming his advances. 15

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“Let me distract you awhile. Forget everything and spend this beautiful night in my arms.” Silla did not argue, and allowed him to take her hand. Vin guided her to a secluded place he had found, where the branches of a fallen tree made a natural nest that would hide them for a while. They had not been lovers for long, having fallen into each other’s arms during the long march. It had taken Vin a while to persuade her of his sincerity and at first she had discounted his approaches as merely a puppyish crush. Vin had an old mind in a young body, and though he was closer in age to her son than to herself, he proved to be one of the few people strong enough to accept her occasional weakness. Silla spent most of her days feigning confidence and certainty in order to keep up the morale of those around her. With Vin, there was no need to pretend, and that was a blessed relief. He pushed her back against the trunk of the felled tree, his mouth going to work on her neck and shoulders. Each press of his lips melted away a little of her worry and tension. There was a rare magic in Vin’s passion, and she was glad of it. Looking at the sky, she could still see the trail of crimson, beautiful and inexplicable as it swept across the night. There was no one else she could surrender to, or allow such power over her. Vin had proved worthy of her trust in a thousand ways, and never took unfair advantage of her needs. She had lost her last male lover in the fighting, and had not planned to take another, but was glad he had persuaded her otherwise. After more than a season’s practise, he knew how she fastened her clothing. Silla could feel Vin’s dextrous fingers plucking pins from her furs. She shivered. It was too cold to be naked here. Noticing signs of Silla’s discomfort, Vin drew her down into the nest he had made. She was surprised how much warmer it was in this small, leafy den. “When the glorious sun falls from the sky, you are the light that remains, beautiful as the moon. Let me worship you.” She loved his soft words and his flattery. He wove myths and legends out of her simplest actions, and to hear them from his lips, she could almost believe his heroic accounts of her efforts. Her memory was of struggle, loss and uncertainty. Vin re-created her as a warrior noble, blessed by her God and saviour of her people. Such mythmaking helped the many who followed her, she thought. It gave them something to believe in, and she did her best to live up to it. There were many things about Vin that Silla relished. While she appreciated his talent with words, she liked his tender lips best when they were at work on her body, glancing over old scars and fresh ones, relieving the aches in her muscles and giving 16

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stimulation to her hungry sexuality. He was a fine youth, uncommonly handsome, witty and playful. He hunted well enough, but it was his laughter she prized, that and his tremendous skill as a lover. He had appetites that took some satisfying, and stamina she struggled to match. Silla ran her fingers over his shoulders, feeling the delicious softness of the red fur before she pushed it away. His skin smelled of wood-smoke and crushed leaves. She licked at him, tasting his sweat as she had so many times before. Silla could feel him hard against her, but it would be a while before he sunk himself in. There would be much teasing and tantalising before that. She knew she would be writhing, sweating and swearing long before he would consent to bestow the services of his cock upon her. However wondrous his mouth could be, that rigid organ was possessed with deeper, more potent forces that could stir her soul and make her weep for joy. Lying back in the nest of leaves, her fingers found his jaw-line, strong and prickly with stubble. His mouth pressed against her palm, and she caressed his ears, feeling the hardness of his sculpted hair. A surge of wetness made her squeal. “Get off me!” He laughed and poked his tongue into her other nostril. She kicked at him, then forced him in to a roll so that he was pinned down instead. “You’ll regret that,” she said. “Now there’s a promise.” Laughter came so easily in his presence. Vin did the strangest, most unpredictable things. Being with him made her feel youthful and carefree, like the girl she had been so many years ago. Silla did not consider herself beautiful, but she knew she was strong. His attraction to her seemed keen enough to make her believe she was worth lusting after. “Now I’ve got you.” She stroked the length of his cock, feeling it twitch and pulse beneath her calloused fingers. “What will you do with me?” he enquired, with mock reverence. Just the feel of his swollen sex in her hands was enough to fill Silla with fire. She covered his length with her mouth, wetting him with her tongue until he was slippery and straining. Not that she needed to moisten him, she was wet enough herself to welcome him in easily. There would be no teasing tonight after all. Silla wanted her lover, and was not willing to wait. She straddled him easily, sinking down upon his shaft and engulfing him with her heated flesh. His hands held her hips, guiding her, giving him leverage, binding them together. She lowered her mouth to his nipples, rocking slowly upon him all the while. Sometimes she wanted to eat him, to bite his skin and consume him, taking him utterly into her, making him fully hers. He tasted so alluring, the scent of him made 17

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her mouth water, invoking all kinds of hungers that vied for attention. Yet at the same time, the boy in him made her fiercely protective, and the poet in him made her melt. He was many men in one skin, many forces and lovers, bound together in a shapely form and blessed with the skill to torment her into ecstasy. Silla shifted her strong legs, feeling the soft hairs on his body rubbing against her smooth inner-thighs. He was almost downy with his dark hairs. Eventually she found the precise angle she sought, and the means to take him in as fully as possible. She straightened her back, all weariness gone. Head straight, face tilted down towards his, even though it was too dark to see him. It seemed to make a difference, this alignment of the spine. It was as though the strength and power of him could flow freely through her if she rode him like this. The length of his cock filled her, running a rigid pole into the core of her being, and sending waves of energy and bliss through her frame, until it seemed to Silla that she was all melting light and softness, glowing in the gloom. Beneath her Vin swelled and bucked, his hips rising and falling to meet hers. His hands moved over her skin, touching her face, pulling at her nipples, and finally gripping her own hands, clenching hard as they quested after glorious satisfaction. “Are you ready?” he asked. “No.” He grunted, and she could tell he was under a terrible strain, fighting to leash his straining passion. This hard won restraint, sought for her sake even as he continued to thrust against her was breathtaking, and Silla revelled in it. She could feel her own pleasure building. He stopped, gasping for breath. “Hold steady, stop a while. You’ll overwhelm me.” She remained still, giving him the respite he needed to bring his shuddering body under control and to step back from the brink. His fingers found her clit, and it took a feat of willpower to keep from moving her hips or clamping down on him with her muscles. Vin moved his finger slowly, pressing up into the damp folds of her flesh. The arousal that had waited for his touch now flared afresh within her, undiminished for these long moments of waiting. Silla trembled, her fingers digging into his flesh, biting at her lip and trying to stifle her growing cries. She did not want the whole camp to hear them, but it was hard to maintain any semblance of control with Vin doing such exquisite things to her. “I can’t hold it,” he said, and she felt his cock begin to pulse. “Let it go,” she murmured. “Let it all go. I want to feel you.” Her final word dissolved into a long ‘oh’ of satisfaction as urgent heat gave way to throbbing, gasping release. 18

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Lying in each other’s arms, she heard him whisper, “I would love to get a child on you.” “I’m too old for that,” she said. It was a sweet thought though, to have a child fathered by this handsome youth. She was sure he would get fine babes. “I’m too old and too tired.” “I’m not sure I believe you.” He sounded teasing, but there was something else under his words, something that made her heart ache. “I’ll build a home for you,” he said, “if you’ll consent to live openly with me.” Silla nuzzled against him, sniffing the earthy fragrance of his body. “I’ll live with you,” she said, and wondered sleepily what Quin would have to say about that.

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Chapter Three

Even under the thick canopy, sunrises were usually brighter than this. Iylla woke early, having slipped away by herself when it became apparent they had all forgotten her. The sky was very big over her head, disturbingly vast and placid. She missed the rustle of leaves, but had not thought it wise to retreat into the familiarity of the forest. She was here to understand these people - that was her reason for being, her function, and she could not deny it. The sky this morning was grey and the sunlight felt wan, as though the life had been stripped from it. Only one other person seemed to be stirring. Iylla perched in her spot and watched as Quin stared at the rising sun. Iylla wondered what this woman was doing, and what thoughts filled her mind, but there was no outward display to give her any clue. Quin was utterly still, her face blank and as depleted like the pale sun. Slowly, she clenched and released her fists, a futile gesture that meant nothing to the creature who observed her. Iylla emerged carefully, not wanting to be seen. Light on her feet and quiet as a breeze, she crept from one fallen tree to another, her keen eyes picking out the places where these people slumbered. Few of them had passed the night alone. Most of them lay in twos and threes, smaller ones curled up against larger ones, or formed into little clusters of their own. The pallid day was slowly reaching them, drawing them from the unruly paths of dreams and back to the strange ways of the forest in which they had made their home. The woman who she had first encountered proved hard to find. Iylla soon decided that she wanted to be close to Silla. She did not pause to wonder at her own motives, but set about the task of finding the woman at once. Iylla slipped passed Silla’s hideaway several times before she noticed it. Creeping closer, she saw that while others had rested where they could in the open, a crude shelter had been made here. She could barely see through the mesh of branches and leaves that covered the slumbering pair. Prizing back a few twigs with her claws, Iylla could see the lovers lying together. Silla’s head lay on Vin’s chest, her hand rested on his stomach while his arms encircled her sleeping form. Of all the sights this morning had brought, the vision of Silla and Vin touched Iylla most. 20

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She wanted to be part of that circle, to hold and be held, to be one of them, both of them or simply caught up in the middle somehow. This closeness and shared sleep perplexed her, invoking a hollow feeling, deeper than hunger, duller than pain. She did not know how to name it. Hearing voices, Iylla rose to her feet. There were other people looking at the sun now, gazing with wonder and uncertainty at the sky. She had been right in that much at least, this was not how sunrises usually showed themselves. A bitter wind swept across the large clearing, making eyes water and skin prickle. Turning her back on the sun, Iylla saw the far horizon was dark, as though something menacing brewed there. Yet one more thing that she could not name or comprehend. She watched, expecting that, in time, it would begin to make sense. She had learned to answer the hunger in her stomach with plants and small creatures. She had discovered how the pressing feeling brought water from between her legs, or sticky excrement. Cold had taught her to take shelter at night. All she possessed was the certainty that anything could be made sense of, given the time. Inside the nest, the sleeper’s shifted and stirred, exchanging soft words in whispers that Iylla could not interpret. The man laughed, low and easy. There were sounds of movement and he emerged. It was the first time Iylla had seen one of them naked. He was as leanly muscular as Dray, but with a softness of skin more like Leon’s. He had all sorts of blue markings on him, and it looked as though there was the outline of some sort of creature in his chest. There were others marks and hairs on his body. Iylla watched him pull on his furs and pin them about him. His dark hair stood in small spikes, very different from her feathers or Leon’s soft locks. The quiet smile of satisfaction on his face only added to her inexplicable yearnings. Iylla saw him offer Silla a hand to help her from their nest. The woman arose, stretching her limbs and looking around her. She too was bare. A flower, fashioned from the blue marks, twined around her arm. She laughed, her hands on Vin’s body, her eyes bright. Her breasts hung a little lower than Iylla’s own, and there were small creases in the flesh on her face, and on the underside of her stomach. Silla’s carefree smile transformed into a frown. She squinted at the sky, then looked around warily. “What is it?” Vin asked. “This is only the middle of the growing season, why is the sun so low?” Vin clambered onto the fallen tree and shielded his eyes as he looked into the sky. “The sun has risen,” he said, “it is at the height you might expect for this time of year.” Silla climbed up to stand beside him. A look of deep concern marked her face. 21

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“What can this mean?” “Last night the midnight sun burned the sky, but today our Blessed Sun is weak and pale. It is a troubling sight. Quin will know what has happened.” “I hope so. I’d best go to her.”Silla jumped down, and froze on landing. Iylla knew she had been seen. “Come with me,” Silla instructed. Iylla emerged from her hiding place and followed on the older woman’s heels, wondering what would come next. The lines of tension and distress in Quin’s figure were obvious. Silla shared in her athro’s anxiety and hurried to her, wrapping her arm around Quin’s waist and standing close, offering what comfort her body could provide. Before them, a pale and uncertain sun hung low in the sky. “Don’t ask me,” Quin said grimly, pre-empting any questions. “I do not know, and if he hears my voice, he does not answer me.” “Do you think it might have anything to do with the midnight sun?” “Vin’s naming I assume? Perhaps. The two things coming so close, one after the other makes me wonder.” “If you have no insight, there is nothing for us to do but continue with our work here. We can sacrifice to the fire tonight and see if he will bless us with his wisdom,” Silla decided. Quin gave Iylla a long, appraising look. “I wonder if he meant her for the flames, if we failed to do his bidding,” she said. Iylla trembled uncontrollably at this, and took a step back. Only Silla’s hand fastening around her arm kept her from running. “He has never asked us for one of our own, not even when we faced an army three times our size. Not when the rains failed for a third season, not when we sought guidance to a new home. I do not believe he would ask it now.” “Firstly my Silla, she is not one of our own. Whatever she is, she belongs to the forest. Secondly, who are we to try and guess the ways of the Blessed Sun?” Silla shook her head, but made no remark. “Why are you here?” Quin asked, turning suddenly on Iylla. “To know you.” “To find out about us for your people.” Quin pressed. “For Dray.” “There, you are here to spy upon us.” 22

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Iylla cocked her head, appreciating there was some difference between this statement and the last, but not grasping the implications. “We should put her into the fire before she brings another battle upon us,” Quin stated. “I do not think she means us any harm,” Silla said, brushing the harsh suggestion aside. “Look at her. At her feathers, and she has claws on her hands. No one knows what manner of thing she is, or what harm she might do,” Quin pointed out. Silla looked, and saw all too clearly the marks of otherness on this strange young woman’s body. There was something about Iylla that intrigued her, something that went beyond apparent physical differences. She felt as responsible for this new arrival as she did for everyone else in the camp. Quin’s brutal intentions startled her. “She came with me in good faith. I won’t dishonour myself by harming her.” “And what will you do when an army of them descend upon us and tear the last remnants of our people to shreds?” “Quin, is that prophecy you speak, or fear?” As Quin made no reply, Silla thought she had her answer. Silla grimaced. She had no desire to be at odds with her close friend and trusted councillor. Their conversation moved in directions that troubled her. She stepped away from Quin. Having sought the athro in the hopes of finding some comfort, Silla was sorely disappointed. “I must see to the business of establishing a home here. If you have any insight Quin, I should be glad of it. In the meantime I will do what I must.” “As must we all.” Silla walked away, pulling Iylla with her. Quin had never been easy she thought, and many things raised the woman’s ire. Vin had inspired more jealousy than any of the other men in Silla’s life. Now, with these additional difficulties and problems, Quin’s position had never been more important, or more precarious. She was the only one amongst them blessed enough to hear the God’s voice and although she had a handful of students, they were a long way from sharing her skill and knowledge. If Quin could not interpret these strange signs and happenings, they would not know how to proceed, and Silla knew she would have to decide for them all, without guidance. There had been times in the past when the God did not favour them with commands, and she had carried them well enough through those days. In the aftermath of the midnight sun, and with their more familiar orb faint and weak, they needed answers more than ever. “Who were you talking about? Who might want me to go into the fire?” Iylla asked slowly. 23

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Silla realised how frightening the conversation must have been for Iylla, and regretted wallowing so long in her own concerns. She stopped walking and turned to face her companion. “The Blessed Sun.” Iylla’s expression remained puzzled. “We follow the God of the Blessed Sun, he who dwells in the fire. He, who is light and life.” “What is a god?” Silla pursed her lips, struggling to find an answer. “Gods are beings more powerful than ourselves and have command over certain things. We honour our God, and do his will, and in turn he gives us his protection.” “And you follow the sun.” “Yes.” “The sun takes care of you.” Silla was about to agree, but she remembered the desolation after the long wars, and the miseries of famine. Perhaps without the care of the God, they would not have survived at all, but she could not be sure. At least Iylla seemed reassured by her words, and the look of fear had left her face. “Why do you wrap yourself in skins?” Iylla asked. “For warmth, and for comfort. Why do you go bare?” “I have always gone bare.” “Don’t you feel the cold?” “Yes.” There were numerous people abroad. Many had started using blocks of stone and crude hammers to split open the larger trees, transforming the round trunks into sturdy planks. The air became noisy with shouts, and banging. Silla passed from one group to another, discussing the work and making other arrangements for the day. There were too many questions about the events of the previous night and the state of the sun for her liking as she could not give them the answers they needed. It seemed best to keep everyone focused on working. There were almost as many questions about Iylla, and she used the opportunity to introduce the feathered woman as widely as she could. There was mistrust aplenty, but enough of them saw the gains possible in learning of the forest from one who lived in it. Every time they had a little quiet, Iylla’s questions continued. Why were some of them smaller and without the blue markings? What were they doing to the trees? Where did the fire come from? Each answer brought a new line of questioning. It was like 24

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dealing with a young child, only more challenging. There was so much Iylla did not seem to know; so many things Silla took for granted. It made her wonder how strange Iylla’s own people must be. “But you must have young, surely? Like all creatures, you begin small and grow larger,” she said. “I have always been this size,” Iylla replied. “But you must have parents, surely, a family.” “Dray and Leon made me.” “Dray and Leon are your parents then.” “I don’t think so, not in the way you mean. Dray gave me life, form and purpose, but Leon gave me a voice, and called my soul into me.” “How old are you?” Silla asked. Iylla stared at her blankly. Yet another obvious question that had not been understood. “I have seen the growing season come thirty seven times. How many times have you seen it?” “This is my first.” Silla almost assumed that the creature had not understood her question. Then, if she was indeed something newly made, then that would explain the enormity of her ignorance. “Who is Dray?” Silla tried. “He made me.” “What is he like?” “His skin is like the tree bark, and his eyes are dark and fierce. I belong to him,” Iylla said. “He doesn’t have feathers like you then?” “No.” “How does he live?” “I don’t know.” Silla scratched at the back of her arm, where some plant had brought a rash up on her skin. She would remember to avoid it in future. “What of Leon?” Iylla smiled. It was something she seldom did, and the pulling back of her lips showed off a line of small, sharply pointed teeth. The effect was both appealing and unsettling, Silla thought. “He is like your Vin--good to look upon.” 25

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“And where does he come from?” “I don’t know.” That was clearly not going to be a fruitful line of questioning either. “Tell me what you know of the forest,” Silla suggested. Iylla spoke at length of the trees, plants and creatures she had encountered during her few days of life. Many of them were utterly unfamiliar to Silla, and the older woman listened fascinated to these tales. **** He had cast off some of his furs, and his muscles showed clearly as he worked. Little beads of sweat gathered and trickled down his torso. Iylla squatted on a nearby tree, hidden by the leaves and branches as she watched Vin labouring. He was knocking wedges into another trunk, breaking the wood into long strips and then piling them up. It wasn’t that hot a day, but he was working hard and it was showing. From time to time, he broke into snippets of tunes, humming as he laboured. Iylla sat transfixed. She was familiar with bird song, but the sweet tones of his voice were richer and more purposeful. Silla was talking to Quin, and had sent her away. At first this had upset her, but there were benefits, she soon found. There was so much to learn just watching these people. They did such curious things. She had been observing them all afternoon--males and females, young ones, old ones. They were all interesting, but Vin was by far the most compelling. She did not know quite why, but the way he moved made her hold her breath sometimes. Having hidden herself in one of the fallen trees, she had been watching him for quite some time. When he walked towards her tree, Iylla felt her heart race as though she was running hard. She gripped the branch tightly, half afraid that she might just topple out in front of him. He pulled his skins aside, revealing the rod between his legs. Iylla understood how these, along with breasts, marked those who could bear children from those who could not. She had discovered a great many things during the day. It had not occurred to her that this organ would be so alluring, but as she looked down from her perch, she could not help but stare at the protrusion he held in his hand. As the stream of piss hit the ground, she giggled, realising what this thing was for. She stifled the sound as rapidly as she could, but he heard her and looked up into the tree. “Well, here’s a strange bird,” he said. Finding herself uncomfortable about being discovered, Iylla sat still and said nothing. “Were you watching me?” “Yes.” 26

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He shrugged and let the furs drop down once more. Iylla supposed some flicker of disappointment must have shown on her face, because he chuckled. “I see. You were looking at something in particular, were you?” Iylla felt her cheeks colouring. “Why don’t you come down and get a closer look?” Iylla dropped neatly to the ground. “Go on then,” she said. With a few deft movements, he unpinned his skins and let them drop around his ankles. She looked, and when it occurred to her he might not mind, she reached out her hand and stroked down the length of the thing. Iylla heard him suck in his breath, so she repeated the action a few times. The cock in her hand swelled at her touch, growing longer and harder. “That feels good,” Vin said. “Does it?” She continued to experiment, touching and squeezing, observing the reactions her various efforts provoked. He groaned, and she looked up at his face, thinking she must have hurt him. Surprisingly he looked as though he was enjoying what she did. “What is this?” she asked. “You don’t know?” “No.” He shook his head. Before she knew what was happening, Vin caught her round the shoulders, holding her to him. His mouth covered hers, warm and slightly moist. Iylla had no idea what to do. Fleeting memories of Leon’s lips on hers returned to her, accentuating the ache she already felt. One hand swept over her skin, cupping her small breasts, then gliding down over her hips and stomach. She tried to break free from his lips, feeling as though she could hardly breathe. He kept her close as his fingers reached between her legs. He pulled away. “No feathers here.” “No.” “No hair either. That’s strange. You’re very soft.” She felt his fingers exploring her, finding sensitive spots she had not been aware of. As he touched her, Iylla experienced a strong urge to move her legs further apart. New, startling feelings washed through her, hot and overpowering. She wanted more. “Let me teach you about pleasure,” he said huskily.

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Vin dropped to his knees before her, and Iylla felt his hands cup her bottom. He pressed his face between her thighs and then, pure sweetness and sensation gripped her. She held his shoulders, feeling as though she might fall at any moment. “Oh,” she breathed. His tongue was lapping at her, sliding along her slit and teasing that little spot of sensitivity his fingers had aroused. It felt better than anything she had known or imagined. “Good?” he asked, tilting his head back so that he could look at her. “Yes. Don’t stop.” He laughed at this, but did as she asked. Iylla closed her eyes, not wanting to think about anything else. Her legs were shaking. Having no way to make sense of what was happening, she stopped trying to think or understand and just let him work his magic upon her. An explosion of pleasure caused her to collapse against him. He let her rest upon his shoulders and she was grateful for his solidity while she felt herself to be light as a feather. When she was able to stand, she pulled his hands from her bottom and held them in her own. He kissed her lightly and pressed his cheek to hers. “Night’s coming on,” he said, “we should go and see how the hunting went. You’re going to be hungry I think.” The fire was burning brightly, and Iylla could smell searing flesh as the day’s kill baked and charred. She had eaten her kills raw, but these people put them to the fire, softening the meat and making it warmer. They scavenged for leaves and fruit as she had done. People were drawing in. Iylla could recognise some of them now and she could see them as individuals rather than just a confusing horde. It took her a while to pick out Silla, stood on the far side of the fire pit with Quin. “Is everyone here?” Silla shouted across the assembly. Her voice was strong and clear, bringing a rapid descent into quiet in its wake. “We have seen strange things in the last day. Our athro has communed with the God, and will share her vision with us.” Their collective expectation was palpable. For a while, Quin talked of the journey they had made, the loss of their ancient home, and the comfort of the fire. It occurred to Iylla that she wasn’t really saying anything at all. Iylla stared hard through the smoke and dancing flame, watching this woman who claimed to hear the voice of the sun. Quin seemed thoroughly unremarkable, just a small, worn and wrinkled creature in her striped skins. Iylla realised this woman had no insight into the meaning of recent events, and that she was afraid. 28

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Nothing interesting was being said. Iylla pressed a little closer to Vin, her small hand finding his larger one. Her eyes scanned the heavens, watching the dark blue of the sky fade into black and the first stars begin to show themselves. The moon had just appeared above the trees, gleaming yellow against the dark firmament. Its shape looked uneven. Iylla had though it perfectly round but it bulged on one side. As she watched, the bulge grew bigger until she realised something else was emerging. The air crackled with tension and glancing around, Iylla realised that other people were watching this new drama played out in the skies. Quin’s voice faltered, and her speech collapsed. Gradually, a second, smaller moon appeared from behind the first, and began a steep ascent into the sky. Iylla could only remember seeing one moon before, but she knew she had not existed long, and had paid little attention to such things. However, judging by the atmosphere of silent awe growing around her, this was not a familiar sight. “There is a new power abroad in the land!” Quin’s voice shook them all. “I do not know her name, but I see her rise in the night sky, goddess of the lesser moon. She has weakened our Lord the Blessed Sun, but he will rise up and fight anew. We must not lose our faith in him.” Iylla returned her attention to the woman, watching her through the dancing flames. “There are dangerous powers in this forest,” Quin continued, “forces we do not understand. Creatures who will harm us. Dark, treacherous places in which we might lose our way. We must stay true to the Sun. We must honour the Sun and not be seduced by the darkness of the forest.” Iylla knew Quin’s full attention was directed at her, and that she was very much part of the danger anticipated. The flames between them rose higher, burning at the sky and outshining the two moons. Iylla had the fleeting impression of a figure formed from fire, a tall, strong man all flame and wrath. She moved behind Vin, letting his body shield her from the heat. “Do you see him?” she asked. “See who?” It was clear he did not, and she thought it would be safer not to say. When the flames died down, Quin was on her knees and Silla was holding her. Iylla wished she knew what was happening.

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Chapter Four

“Quin!” Silla shook her, trying to draw her from the trance. There was a terribly vacant look in her eyes, and her body burned feverishly under Silla’s hands. Without warning, she slumped into Silla’s arms, her breath ragged and her legs buckling. She was no weight at all. They dropped to the ground together, each holding the other tight. “What did you see?” Silla asked urgently. She had encountered these trances before and knew them to be important. “I saw him in the fire,” Quin croaked. “He is so angry, so terrible and angry.” “Is he angry with us?” “Yes and no. He does not want us tainted with the forest, and he is angry with the new moon. She has stolen his light but he does not have the means to destroy her.” “What would he have us do?” “We must not let the forest seduce us.” “I do not think it will, my Quin. We will master the forest.” “It seduces us already, it creeps amongst us whispering poison and stealing reason. Look, see it for yourself.” Silla turned, following the direction of Quin’s trembling finger. On the far side of the fire she saw her lover with his arm around the forest creature’s shoulders. She wondered how much she had missed. If Quin expected jealousy, she was wrong. Silla knew Vin was a handsome young man, and had never expected to keep him entirely to herself. She would not seek to bind him or limit him. His love was freely given and to deny that part of him would be obscene. “Let me fetch you food and water, you will feel better for it,” she said. Her heart ached to go to them, and find out what, if anything had happened. Quin needed her, and that had to come first. “You should have given her to the fire,” Quin whispered, “that creature will tear us apart, I can see it. That is my prophecy and not my fear speaking.” The raw bitterness in her athro’s voice made Silla wince. Her urge to protect Iylla was strong, if hard to explain, and she knew she would not allow any harm to befall the 30

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peculiar girl. Seeing Quin so tormented pained her, and she did not know how to alleviate that. She stroked Quin’s furrowed brow, wondering if affection might sooth away this angry fear. “Don’t paw me,” Quin objected. “I only meant –“ “I know what you meant. I don’t want it. Leave me be. Go on, go. Your heart isn’t here and there’s no point pretending otherwise.” Silla opened her mouth to protest, but the look on Quin’s face silenced her. It would be worse to lie to this woman who had been her lover for many years, than to accept things were changing and that she needed to move on. “I will be true to you, as I am true to our God and our people,” Quin said as she stood. The words tugged at Silla’s heart. “I cannot compete with a fair young man, and the forest will seduce you, I see it. I cannot save you from that whatever I do.” Silla turned, her eyes already scanning the crowd for signs of Iylla. Smaller fires had been lit at short distances from the main one. The night was alive with light and dancing flame. People congregated in small groups, eating and talking, contemplating the skies and pondering Quin’s words. Silla found her three children sat at her father’s feet, their faces greasy with fats and their eyes wide. She sat with them a while, picking dirt from their furs and listening to their tales of the day. “They do well enough,” Rill told her. “And are you well father?” “My bones ache. I think the weather will change. Otherwise I am well enough.” Silla was conscious that she never had enough time for her offspring, or for the tough old man who had sired her. She was lucky to have him, so many of the older people had not survived the journey here. Rill was strong despite his years, and his determination to live had thus far thwarted everything that sought to lay him low. He cared for her children and she knew she would not have been able to lead them all had he not lifted that particular burden from her. Rill and her children had made a leaning shelter of branches and leaves, with a large skin to shield them from the ground. It was clear that the four of them would be comfortable enough as the nights were gentle at this time of year. “Vin is building a home, and has asked me to live with him. We can all live together, if you want.” “That would be good.” Rill smiled at his daughter. “I wondered how long it would take you two to admit it. I don’t blame you. If I could get a woman half my age, I certainly would.” 31

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“He’s not half my age,” she protested. It wasn’t far off though. “Go on,” he said, “go to him. We will see you tomorrow.” Silla kissed each of her children good-night, and then headed off in search of her lover. Between the assorted small fires, and the soft glow of moonlight, Silla could see well enough. Her progress was slowed by people who wanted just a word, or had a quick question, and none of it was every truly brief. At last she made her way across the site of their planned settlement, and found the secluded spot where Vin had made their private nest. She had been hoping he would think to bring the forest girl back here, and was not disappointed. Their single silhouette was unmistakable even in the low light. Silla moved slowly, being careful not to make any noise. She did not want to disturb their kissing. They were an extraordinary sight. Moonlight caressed exposed skin, gleaming wanly on muscles and bare flesh. Iylla looked smaller than ever, standing on her toes, her head tilted up as she offered her mouth to Vin. Just looking at him left Silla throbbing with desire. He was so very attractive, so young, strong and sure of himself. His hands moved over Iylla’s peculiar body with ease, as though they had been lovers a long time. They had not noticed her. Silla moved closer, wanting to be part of that embrace. One hand found the curve of Iylla’s hip, the other Vin’s back. Their arms opened to allow her in, and it was as though they had been waiting for her all this time. Silla looked at each of them in turn, seeing the brightness of their eyes and the marks of arousal on their bodies. Iylla was fractionally shorter than her, and she only had to turn slightly to bring their lips into gentle contact. The forest creature’s mouth was warm and soft, yielding gently and parting as she welcomed the kiss. Her tongue darted into Silla’s mouth, questing and enticing. Silla caught the back of the girl’s neck, and pressed her own tongue deep into the soft, small cave of Iylla’s mouth. She could feel Vin’s hand straying over her thighs, warmly familiar. Sharp teeth grazed her lip, startling but not painful. “She wants to learn about pleasure,” Vin whispered, his face against Silla’s neck. “I’ve taught her a little.” “Not everything?” Silla asked, flushed and breathless. “Not everything, my Silla.” “I’m glad you waited for me.” “So am I.” She felt a line of hot kisses pressed into her shoulders. Bending her back a little, she lowered her head so that she could apply her tongue to Iylla’s stiffening nipples. The girl let out an eerie sound, her cry like a startled bird. Silla took one nipple between her 32

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teeth, her fingers reaching to try the other. She felt Vin’s hand pushing hers away, and from the corner of her eye saw him latch on to the other breast. The girl shuddered, moaned and dug her claws into Silla’s shoulder. The pain was sharp, but Silla did not allow it to divert her from her purpose. The taste of Iylla’s flesh and the apparent fervour of her arousal was enough to keep desire in Silla burning hard. She wanted them both, but knew her pleasure would have to wait. Vin would make sure she was not left wanting. Silla dropped to her knees, nuzzling her face between Iylla’s thighs. Although her sex was fully mature, Iylla was as hairless as a child, her skin soft to the touch. Silla explored the folds of tender flesh, running her fingers down the length of Silla’s slit, and teasing her clitoris out from under its hood. In the regard at least she was much the same as any other woman, and responded with the gasp of delight Silla was used to inspiring. A few tentative passes of her tongue indicated that Iylla reacted best when attention was focused on her firm little clit. Just as she was settling down to lick in earnest, she saw Vin take up a corresponding position at Iylla’s back. Closing her eyes, Silla used all the skill she had to work her tongue across Iylla’s sex in the most tantalising ways. She knew how it felt to have Vin’s tongue probing at her rear. Having reached her middle years with experience of many lovers, she thought there wasn’t much she did not know. Vin was the first man to put his tongue to her ass, and the first to penetrate her there. He had taught her a whole new spectrum of pleasures and possibilities. Silla hoped there would be some opportunity to take turn and turn about that she might be the one who stood on shuddering legs while these beautiful young creatures served her fore and aft. The thought of it made her arse tingle and her cunt moist. A shudder passed through Iylla’s body, then a second. Silla kept her tongue light, working rapidly to bring as much pleasure as she could. The little cries and moans her efforts caused were rewarding and she could imagine how sublimely good this must feel. She could smell the musk of Iylla’s body and the earth scent of her honey as it seeped between the younger woman’s nether lips to anoint her thighs. Silla raised her head, looking up to enjoy the expression on the girl’s face. “You haven’t taken her?” she asked. Several moments passed before Vin responded. “I’ve not used my cock on her, no.” “Do you want that Iylla?” Silla asked. Iylla bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Vin. “He has a lovely cock,” Silla said encouragingly. “I know you’ll enjoy it.” “What must I do?” 33

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“Kneel down,” Vin suggested, “put your forearms on the ground and lift your bottom high.” Iylla did as she was told, facing Silla and offering herself to Vin. Looking at her new playmate, Silla longed to lie back on the cool ground and open her thighs. It would be delicious to have Iylla’s tongue explore her sodden loins while Vin worked his own masculine magic. Silla decided it would not be fair to ask for that so soon. If Iylla had been honest about her origins, this would be her first experience of penetration. She would need to give that her full attention and Silla could not request anything on her own account. Still, she enjoyed the thought, and decided there would be time enough for such games in the days to come. Silla watched as Iylla closed her eyes, a nervous smile playing on the young woman’s lips. Vin was poised and ready, cock firm and in hand. Silla smiled encouragingly at him, and he shot her a glance of pure lust that made her wish she was the one anticipating being taken. He stroked his hands over Iylla’s thighs. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Yes.” Although she loved looking at Vin, and his sizeable cock, Silla turned her attention to Iylla. Each subtle shift in expression told her what was happening. The surprise at being entered as she bit down on her lips, the first pain trying to accommodate him, the gradual relaxing ad finally the first flickers of enjoyment. Once she thought the feathered girl was over the first shock, Silla moved in closer, her fingers finding Iylla’s nipples and pinching them into hard protrusions. The expressions on their faces, illuminated as they were by soft moonlight, were so very beautiful. Mounting rapture transformed them into unearthly beings, sensuous creatures of night and desire that could have little connection to the practical realities of day. It was enough to look, to share their mutual enjoyment and delight in the sumptuous vision they created. Her turn would come in time, but personal satisfaction was far from Silla’s thoughts. She lost herself in watching with them, responding to each sign of their pleasure. The stream of their lovemaking carried her along on its flow and their shared release carried her into a state of deep satisfaction.

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Chapter Five

The fire sparked and danced, hungry for more offerings as Quin fed green wood amongst the glowing embers. As far as she was aware, everyone else was sleeping. Sounds of mysterious forest life came to her from the nearby trees, but nothing ventured close. In the sky overhead, the two moons gazed down like mismatched eyes in some distorted face. Quin disliked the feel of that glare, and wished for the comforts of daylight when these interlopers would be driven from the sky. In the morning, the Blessed Sun would conquer them anew and bring something better than this morbid half-light. Taking a long bone pin from amongst her skins, Quin pricked her finger and squeezed out a few drops of brilliantly crimson blood. These she offered to the flames, dropping them onto the embers and seeing them bubble away to nothing. “Lord of the Blessed Sun,” she whispered. “Guide me.” She had seen him stand in the flames that evening, but only fleetingly. His return was something she both sought and feared. The God she served was enraged, and she did not know how he would treat her. Quin’s fingers moved instinctively to the talisman at her neck. It had belonged to her mother, and a great aunt before that, then that aunt’s grandmother. Most of the athro’s were women, and her family had a long, proud history of serving their God. Quin fed the fire steadily, pausing from time to time in order to make more prayers, and offer further droplets of blood to the flames. The moons had both started to descend towards the horizon when Quin sensed a prickle in the air and felt the heat from the fire grow more intense. She waited, watching the flames. Dawn would not be long in coming and the Blessed Sun was rising in power. The flames rose up, burning brighter and higher until at last she could see in the centre the awe inspiring figure of her God. He resembled a tall and powerful man. Today his manifestation was clad in metal. Great plates of it hung from his body, glinting and gleaming in the flickering flames. His eyes burned, and his crimson hair flew about his head. “Loyal Quin.” His was not so much a voice she could hear in the normal way, instead his words manifested in her head, heavy and forbidding. 35

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“There are many powers in this forest,” he said, “Many dangers, many threats.” She waited for him to continue. He had said as much before, but she hoped there might be more to come. “This place is rich with power. I can take this power. I can make this land good for you and your people for many generations to come.” “My lord is generous,” Quin murmured. “I am both stronger and weaker in this place,” he said. “But I can fashion a wonder for you, something that will send my will into the forest and destroy those who threaten my people.” Quin’s heart leapt at this suggestion. Never before had he proposed so direct an intervention in their lives. “Bring to me the bones of the creatures you have feasted upon. Bring me bark and branch and soil.” Quin set to at once. The bones left over from meals were gathered in one place. Instruments, needles, jewellery, and many other things could be fashioned from them when there was more time. She brought as many as she could find to the fire, then set about gathering branches and scooping up handfuls of the fertile earth. All the while, the God stood amidst the flames, arms folded across his chest, majestic and terrifying as the fire danced around him. “Now give me your blood.” She knew he required more than a few drops this time and wondered if this most powerful magic might call for the sacrifice of her life. Quin felt ready, if such a thing was demanded of her. The bone needle she had used before would not do for this. Fumbling with the few things on her belt, she pulled free a small blade of bluish stone, honed to a fine cutting edge. Quin ran the sharp side across her palm, gritting her teeth against this necessary discomfort. Blood fell from her hand into the hungry fire. The heat seared her skin and she could see the tiny hairs on her arm starting to singe, but still she continued, letting her blood drip into her God’s cupped hands. It seemed to Quin that she stood there an age. The moons set, but there was no suggestion of a sunrise. Beyond the fire, the night was utterly black, not even the stars alleviated it. Blood trickled from her, drip by drip, covering his incorporeal hands. The heat made her giddy, and her head swam. Holding her position took all the will and courage Quin could muster. She would not fail her God in this. “Enough.” Relieved beyond all measure, she staggered back from the flames and collapsed to the ground. The soil felt so very cool after the scorching temperatures she had endured. 36

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She lay against it, too exhausted to move as she watched the Lord of the Blessed Sun fashion his miracle from her humble offerings. The sky swam with heat. Flames and blood mingled, rising high as though they meant to consume the night itself. Quin watched in awe and terror as forms coalesced. The bones of dead birds and animals took flaming flesh, great wings flapping against the sky as their monstrous, glorious forms erupted into the air. They flew forth, dozens of them. Quin saw the look of approval on her God’s stern face, and knew she had done well for him, that he was pleased with his servant. Basking in this knowledge, she succumbed to exhaustion and let oblivion overtake her.

**** Dawn came softly, the sky tinted with pale pinks as the sun peeked above the horizon. The light was weak, but it enabled Silla to watch the two who rested at her side. Iylla’s feathers brushed against her chest, soft, and sensual. Each rise and fall of breath made them tremble anew. She was sweetly innocent in repose, her strange eyes hidden under heavy lids her claws curled against the palms of her hands. Were it not for the feathers, she might almost be one of them. Fire exploded outside the shelter. All thoughts of passion and play vanished from Silla’s mind as she scrambled out, doing her best to wake the others with prods and yells as she went. The dry leaves and branches were burning only a few paces from where they lay, and the fire was spreading. Tugging the weathered hide from around her shoulders, she set about trying to thrash out the flames. Her mind raced, wondering what could have caused such a thing. No one else had woken yet and the morning was cool and still. She heard the roar of flame behind her and leapt to one side as fire brushed the backs of her calves. She fell awkwardly, rolling and abrading herself on the uneven ground. There was a creature closing in on her. It was more than twice the size of a man, an ungainly thing with wings that could barely lift its bulk from the ground. It moved neither well nor quickly. Silla cursed herself for not having grabbed her spear when she fled the shelter. The beast advanced, its large nostrils quivering and flaring as it sought her out. She supposed its small eyes could see very little, certainly its aim wasn’t too good, a fact to which she probably owed her life. Precious moments passed before Silla realised it was moving away from her, its interest returning to the shelter and the other two. It was too close to them for comfort, and she could see neither Iylla nor Vin beyond its ugly bulk. Her hands scuffled in the dirt and found a pebble. Without trying to aim, she threw the stone, and saw it bounce from the beast’s tough and scaly hide. It turned, and fire scorched the fallen tree that sheltered her. The monstrous thing was belching up gusts of flame from its gut, but these 37

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blasts seemed to be weakening. The last one had failed to set anything alight. She shouted, trying to wake her lovers and warn them of the danger. The winged beast turned again, a long, fat tail lashing through the undergrowth and stopping only a hand-span from her. Silla reacted fast, grabbing another stone and dashed it down upon the tail, drawing the monster’s attention back to herself. To her relief, she could see Vin had emerged and was keeping it at bay with a spear. Initial relief dwindled all too soon as she looked carefully, she saw the skin on one side of Vin’s body was blackened and scorched. His movements suggested to her that he was in a great deal of pain. Anger overwhelmed her. She made a dash for the shelter, her arms plunging into the branches after her stash of weapons, when a surge of hot air passed over her. No flames this time. She had been lucky. There was a terrible stench from the monster’s breath. Spear in hand, Silla leapt to her feet, not wasting time on thought or planning, just charging at the beast. It could not fend off both of them at once she reasoned. The tail lashed up to hit her, throwing her off balance. She had underestimated how fast it could move if it wanted to. Silla realised the creature wasn’t really interested in her. If she attacked it, she could get its attention for a while. Vin, or perhaps Iylla was the real focus of its malevolent attentions. She tried to work her way round to them. Attacking it was futile its skin was so thick that her spear could do no more than scratch the surface. She would need a shot at its eyes or palate to bring it down, and that would be no easy thing to achieve. Vin was fighting for his life as Silla reached his side. The beast had strong jaws and long fangs meant to rend and tear flesh. It snapped and snarled, little jets of stinking breath punctuating its attempts to bite him. Behind him, Iylla picked up stone after stone, throwing them at its leathery flanks in a vain effort to drive it off. Silla felt the shadow fall across them. There was another one, hanging precariously in the sky. A waterfall of fire cascaded down, heating the air. For a moment, Silla could see nothing. The beast she had been fighting took the opportunity to lunge, and she only just managed to ward off its teeth with her spear. Risking a glance, she saw that the fire was licking at dried undergrowth, but Iylla was well out of range and running for all she was worth. The monster on her heels was closing, lips drawn back in a murderous sneer. With a few slow, arduous wing-beats, Silla’s scaled opponent rose from the ground and took off after its companion. Silla ran after them, but it was too high for her spear to reach, and she knew throwing her weapon would be pointless. She saw Iylla vanish into the trees. The monsters rose up above the canopy, tracking their prey as she 38

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fled. There was absolutely nothing she could do. Silla turned away from the scene. Flames still licked at the undergrowth, and she retrieved her skins and set to beating out this remaining threat. Vin was leaning heavily on his spear, his eyes closed and his expression pained. Stepping closer, Silla could see that he was badly burned. The fire had stripped the hair from one side of his head, and ravaged his body. “Can you walk?” she asked. “I think so.” He moved slowly, but kept his footing. There was a small pool she had found on the previous day’s hunt. Tall trees hid it, but it was only a short distance from their shelter. The pool was small, but the water bubbled up clear and sweet from the ground beneath, and ran away in a small stream. Silla helped her lover into the water, trying to ignore how he winced and groaned at the shock of cold against his skin. She knew this would help to ease him. He closed his eyes, and Silla gritted her teeth, fighting back the threat of tears. She could not cry now, not in fear for Iylla or grief over her wounded love. Tears were an expression she could not afford at the best of times. Now she would have to remain in control. It was no time to indulge her own distress. “Is it helping?” she asked, needing to break the quiet. “Yes,” he said. His voice sounded strained. “Tell me when you can’t feel the fire in your flesh any more. We’ll have to get you to Fenny.” “Did Iylla get away?” he asked. “I think so. She fled into the forest and they were following her, but they were too big to move easily amongst the trees.” “It was her they wanted. We didn’t mater to them. Why do you think that might be?” Vin said. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know what they are.” “Gwiber.” “What are they?” “It’s an old word, it means ‘cursed’. I thought it would do for them.” “It’s a good name.” “Yes.” His voice had grown so quiet that she could barely hear him. “Come on,” she said, “Time we were moving.” She hoped he did not hear the panic she felt. Her voice wavered with it. Vin was young and strong, she had never 39

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considered him mortal or fragile in the way that she did other people. He was both, and seeing it frightened her. She could not bear to lose him.

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Chapter Six

For a long time, all Iylla did was run. Her lungs ached and her legs burned. Spiked and thorny plants gashed at her skin, roots tripped her and branches whipped her from head to toe. These were minor discomforts compared to the terror that gripped her when she heard the rush of flames at her back. The pursuing beasts were too big to fly between the trees, but they followed her well enough from above the canopy, and blasted her with their flames whenever they could. Thus far they had done no worse than singe her, but she feared being burned. Only when Iylla knew that she could run no more did she start trying to think about her dilemma. In the forest, bulk was a disadvantage. She was quite a small creature, and realised the heavier undergrowth might hide her from their attention and protect her from assault. Sooner or later she would have to rest, but to stop currently would be fatal as the fiery beasts would attack her from above. Rather than seeking easy places to run, she took to plunging into deeper cover, seeking the dense, gloomy places where she might go unseen. Pushing through the luscious growth required her to slow considerably. It was a long time before the blood stopped pounding in her ears. Terror kept her heart racing long after she slowed her pace. A boulder with a hollow curve at its base gave Iylla a place where she could almost feel safe. It would be virtually impossible to see her from above, she thought. She was tired and hungry, with no idea of where she was or how long she had been running. Closing her eyes, she clutched her knees to her chest. She was hunted but she did not know why. The creatures had harmed Vin, and probably Silla as well in trying to get to her, but clearly wasn’t all that interested in either of them. Iylla understood hunting, predators took what they could. It made no sense to single her out. Iylla was lost and utterly miserable. She did not know what had become of the pair who had tried so hard to protect her, and that was the worst part of all. Now that she thought about them, Iylla found she had some sense of where their camp would be in relation to her current hideaway. The inexplicable drive that had sent her to them in the first place was still present, calling her back the way she had come. For a moment, happiness flickered up in her, but it was soon extinguished. There could be no returning, 41

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not while she was pursued by beasts that could cause such destruction. She could not draw that danger back to Silla’s people. Why was it only her they wanted? She had no answers to that. Neither did she have any idea where she might go. There were no strings on her heart to draw her back to Dray and Leon, nor did she remember the journey that had brought her from them to Silla’s camp. In the first days of existing, it had been easy to go alone through the forest. The brief time with Leon and Dray had formed her, but isolation came naturally enough. Now she knew what it meant to be close to others, to lie between people who cherished her and lavished affection on her body. She missed the sounds of voices, the pleasures of contact and the sense of belonging. She thought of Vin, with his hands upon her hips, opening her in ways she had not imagined. The feel of him inside her, the heat of his body and the sheer delight he inspired filled her mind, sweet at first, but then painful as she realised she might never know such things again. For a while, she slept. When she woke, the light had almost gone, and cries of night birds filled the branches above her. Iylla set off, glad for the dark that disguised her progress. For a while she hunted, climbing into the trees to take the small birds that roosted in the higher branches. She pulled out the worst of the feathers and ate them raw as she had done in her first few days. Pushing through the densely packed saplings, she at last came to a group of trees who seemed to have grown into each other, their trunks forming an impenetrable wall of wood. She skirted along the side of this for some time, until a low branch afforded her a means of climbing up. Iylla had thought to merely drop down on the other side, but the view she had stopped her in her tracks. There was a great circle of these trees, their trunks merging at the base as though they had all grown out from the massive and long departed bowl of some forest giant. Between the trees lay an open stretch of water, cradled by the towering plants, and perfectly still. In it, the sky was a placid reflection, with a few stars showing and the larger moon had already risen in the sky. It was a serene and beautiful place. The call of the water was too strong to be resisted. Iylla dived in, entering the pool with barely a splash. It was chill against her skin, making her tingle. She glided across the bottom, seeing how the roots tangled together to form this magical pond. Nothing else swam in the pool, and the water seemed fresh. Her head broke the surface, feet kicking instinctively to keep her afloat. Around her the ripples slowed until it looked almost as though she was floating amidst stars and moonlight. 42

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She paddled a little closer to the trees, and her feet found the uneven bottom. Standing still, she watched as these latest ripples made tiny waves against the wood, then vanished entirely. In the still, moonlit water, she could see her own reflection. Her skin was a pale brown, smooth and featureless. Her large eyes looked amber in the water, and her black feathers framed a narrow, angular face. There was nothing here that seemed beautiful to her. She had not realised she looked so very different to the rest of Silla’s people. The sight of her own face alarmed her. She touched it, and saw the claws on her fingers. She had never given them much thought, but these too marked her out as something different. She was not like them. She was not like anyone or anything as far as she knew, and there seemed to be nowhere she belonged. Her thoughts turned to Leon then. He had been in her life for so brief a time, but it was his breath that had stirred her body, his hands that had touched her first. She wanted to believe there was someone who could shelter her, even though she had no reason to think he might. “Am I meant to be alone then?” she asked the gently swaying trees. There was no answer to her question, only the hoarse cry of some night creature who wandered close by in the forest. During the following day, she wandered slowly, looking for food. Her existence was without purpose and her mind was filled with the thoughts of those she had lost. She felt their absence like a wound. Were they safe? Had other creatures attacked them? She did not know. Silla and Vin haunted her thoughts. There was so much she wanted to know of them, so much she had not done or seen, so many questions left unanswered. Iylla began to think that the creatures following her had lost her scent. She crouched by a small stream just as the sun was setting, cupping water in her hands and lapping it up. There was no warning sound, only the sudden force of heat and light exploding around her. She threw herself into the water, glad of the damp mud beneath her fingers. The stream was just deep enough to cover her as the fire raged past. When she could hold her breath no longer, Iylla dared to raise her head. It was turning above her, coming back for another strike. She was exposed, and if it saw her, she would be at the mercy of its vicious jaws. Staggering to her feet, she forced herself into a run, plunging back into the cover of the trees. She had no idea how her predator had found her.

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Chapter Seven

The wooden shelter held firm as the wind lashed it mercilessly. The timbers creaked and groaned under the strain, and cold draughts found their way between the numerous cracks, given those huddled inside a taste of the onslaught outside. Never in their lives had they known the wind to run so wild and fierce. Silla paced back and forth on the limited area of clear floor. A small fire flickered in the hole she had dug only that day. The flames struggled against the gusts of wind, but gave enough light that she could see her family. “There’s nothing you can do,” Rill said, his voice stern. “As soon as the storm dies,” she said. “Yes. When the storm dies. It’s dark. A flame won’t stand that gale. The sacred fire will be out, and you’ll be of no use to anyone in the dark. No point risking yourself.” There came a cry, faint on the wind. It wasn’t the first they had heard since the howling wind came down upon them. Each sound of fear and suffering tormented Silla. While all the assorted family groups had shelters erected, some were better built than others. Constructions might have collapsed in the storm. She had visions of roofs torn off, of wooden walls crashing down to crush the helpless. “You’ll wear yourself out,” Rill added. “It would be better if you rested now. Save your strength for the morning.” Silla sat down on the beaten earth of the floor. Trian was asleep, her head resting in her grandfather’s lap. She seemed able to sleep through almost anything, and Silla envied her daughter’s ability to rest so easily. Fin was sleeping as well, curled up against his older brother. Although Charn lay still and quiet, his eyes were open and shone in the firelight. Further back, where the darkness encroached, Vin lay silent. Fenny had found something to make him sleep while his body healed. Silla supposed it was the kindest thing they could have done. She missed the sound of his voice, his ready humour and playful companionship. The last few days had been hard. Just when they thought their trials at an end, those scaled beasts had come to wreak havoc. Vin was not the only one to lie injured. There had been no fatalities, for which she was grateful, but the damage to woodpiles had 44

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been considerable. Worse still, Quin had been delirious since the attack, and without her guidance, Silla felt vulnerable indeed. Quin’s insight was something she had come to depend upon. “Sit,” Rill instructed. She accepted his order, and lowered herself into the space beside him, between her slumbering offspring. His hands descended upon her shoulders, strong fingers working the knotted tension from her back. “It will seem better in the morning,” he promised. Silla could see the worried look on her son’s face, and knew that he needed reassurance. She smiled at Charn, and nodded. “I’m sure the wind will die down soon,” she said. “Best get some sleep.” He was still young enough to be easily convinced. Silla felt some relief as her eldest child closed his eyes and snuggled down in his furs. She remained silent until his slowed breathing indicated that he slept. “What will we do if they come back?” Silla mused. “Whatever we can.” “I need to find something sharper for spear tips, something that can break those hides.” “They would be less of a threat under trees. Making this clearing has exposed us,” Rill said. “I fear you are right.” “It looked to me like they went in pursuit of your wild girl.” “I thought that too. I don’t know why they wanted her. It makes no sense, unless…” she paused, gazing warily at the fire as though it might be an eavesdropper. “Unless?” “Quin really didn’t like Iylla. She’s said a lot of things about the seductive dangers of the forest. I wonder if those beasts belonged to the Blessed Sun?” “I’ve never heard of anything like that.” “Nor I. It doesn’t seem likely. I’m worried for Quin though.” “You worry too much. You should try and sleep.” When the dawn at last came, it brought carnage and chaos. Trees had been ripped down by the storm, their huge limbs thrown across the open ground. Two of the new shelters had been crushed beyond all repair and several others had lost or damaged roofs. The sacred fire was extinguished, and an air of unease hung over the camp. Slen approached Silla’s door as she was leaving. 45

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“I’m starting to think this place is cursed,” he said. “Quin says this it the place our Lord has chosen for us,” she answered. “Quin hasn’t said anything much of late, not since we got here in fact. You lead us Silla, not her. People are saying we should move on. It’s your decision they’ll follow, not hers” “I think we should stay. We’ve no guarantee that things will be easier elsewhere. If we had been deep in the forest last night, we might all have been killed by falling trees.” “True.” He smiled and nodded. “Do you want some help surveying the damage?” “I’d be glad of your company.” Things were not as bad as Silla had feared, but there was enough damage to set their work back considerably. There were injuries, but none serious, which was better than she had dared to hope. Between the wind and the gwiber, (as Vin had named them) people were ill at ease. Her lover’s nimble tongue and way with words would have been helpful to allay fears, but unable to fall back on Vin’s skill, Silla was obliged to do the best she could herself. When Silla returned to the central fire in the early afternoon, Quin was busy building it for the night’s gathering. Her movements were controlled, but when she looked up at Silla there was an eerie gleam in her eyes. “Are you well?” Silla asked. “I am well. Your forest fiend has gone then?” “I haven’t seen her in days.” “Run back to her friends no doubt,” Quin said. “She was driven off when those creatures attacked us.” Silla fought not to let anger show in her voice. “I wish I had seen them,” Quin said dreamily. “I think they must have been beautiful.” “They were the vilest things I have ever laid eyes upon.” Quin hissed through her teeth, clearly displeased by this statement. “You will see,” Quin said. Silla advanced upon the woman. Quin might be the only one amongst them who could hear the god’s voice, but that did not place her beyond all doubt or question. Silla’s strong fingers closed around the other woman’s bony arm. “I want to know exactly what’s happening,” she said, her voice low and menacing. Quin shrugged. 46

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“You will see in the fullness of time.” “I need answers now, Quin. Don’t play with me. What do you know of those things?” “About as much as you knew about that vicious forest creature I should imagine.” Silla turned away. This was not a Quin she recognised. They had trusted each other so perfectly once. Their shared strength and courage had pulled the others from the jaws of destruction and won them all a chance at new life. How, or when the seeds of discord were sown she could not say, but it grieved her deeply to find she was at odds with her oldest friend. Silla walked away, not wanting to fight or to listen to anything more. She had work to do. There was always something requiring her attention. She would have to think about Quin later, and could only hope things would make more sense with time.

**** Iylla pricked up her ears and eyed her surroundings. It was almost as though someone had called her name. She listened closely but there were no unusual sounds amongst the nearby trees. Two dark green birds chattered on a low branch a little above her, and a small mammal darted about amongst the leaf litter. She could hear a herd of creatures moving some distance away. She had caught several glimpses of them already that day. They were agile, leaping easily over fallen trees and bounding from boulder to boulder. Their mottled brown and cream hides meant they were hard to spot when still. The group was large, and she had thought to try hunting them. They were proving hard to catch. The call came again. This time she felt it, and knew it had not come to her by way of her ears. It resonated through her body, a deep, yearning hum that spoke of all the home and safety that she had never known. Dropping down from her branch, Iylla landed neatly on the soft ground below. For many days now, she had done nothing but wander and live as best she could. Now she had purpose again, and the thought of it lifted her spirits. Turning in a slow circle, she found she knew the direction she must take. Dray had summoned her and she would return to him with all haste. She might not be quite so light on her feet as the herd creatures she had pursued, but Iylla was capable enough. She moved swiftly between the trees, always keeping to the shadows and the patches of heavy undergrowth. It had been some time since the fire breathing beasts attacked her last, but she had not dropped her guard and was not going to be drawn out into the open now. Darting through patches of light to the safety of shade, she made rapid progress. There was a long way to go, but the distance did not intimidate 47

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her. For such a summons, she would run to the ends of the earth – her heart knew no way of resisting so all-consuming a demand. The route that Iylla found through the forest embraced animal tracks, stream beds and river valleys. She climbed a gorge one night, not daring to expose herself in the open by day. Above her, the two moons gleamed, the larger having returned to full roundness, the smaller one a crescent low in the sky. At the top of her ascent, she paused to look at them, feeling their light on her skin. Beneath her, the forest stretched as far as the eye could see, dark and uncompromising in its mystery. Something in the distance emitted a long, harsh cry, breaking the brief enchantment. It was time to run again. Days and nights passed all too quickly. It was easy enough to find water, but she did not hunt. Time had taught her of many things that could safely be eaten. She grabbed leaves when she saw them, and occasional eggs. Hunger was less important than getting back. It seemed to Iylla that she could run forever, and survive on air if needs be. At last her feet found a track, a strip of luscious green undergrowth, soft and springy beneath her bare feet. One moment she was running through the familiar forest tangle, and the next this peculiar track appeared beneath her feet. It ran straight and true through the trees, but was well covered by overhanging branches. She followed it confidently, trusting the summons that pulled her ever onwards. There was no time to think too deeply, or question what she found. None the less, Iylla soon felt the absence of time from this path. She could find no measure of light or dark, only the pounding of her feet and the silent tunnel of green. The day did not age, even though her instincts told her it should be growing dark. The only reality was the rhythm of her feet pounding into the ground. If there was any real difference between one tree and the next, she did not notice it. The giants that flanked her path and protected her with their branches screened out the rest of the forest. They were little more than a blurred presence in her peripheral vision. There was no birdsong here. No forest creatures strayed across the track. Nothing grew or changed. Given time to think about it, Iylla might have found this strange. Running, she did not contemplate where she was or why this strange, grassy road had opened up before her. The call drew her onwards, quashing all other inclinations. How long she travelled, Iylla could not say. She lacked even fatigue to express the passage of time. Eventually she saw the tunnel open out before her, becoming a vast glade. The track melted away, and Iylla slowed her pace, treading warily towards this exposed place. If the trees that shrouded the track seemed large, they were dwarfed by the great trunks that greeted her view. It took her a few moments to realise that these expanses of bark were giant versions of trees. The light was somehow softer here, 48

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although she could not make out what time of day it might be. Everything seemed still, as though the place lay in waiting. Having been hunted so long, Iylla did not dare to break cover. Instead, she edged her way along the peripheries of the clearing, looking for signs of life. Memories of the first moments of her existence returned, and she realised this looked very much like the place where her earliest recollections began. She saw him lying in the soft grass at the base of the great tree. His eyes were closed and his face was bathed in the soft light. Iylla paused, her mouth dry and her breath inexplicably shallow. She remembered Leon perfectly, but memory lacked the immediacy of seeing him in the flesh. At their first encounter, his body had been a source of curiosity as she observed the differences between them. Now she saw him in an entirely different way. Leon was tall, his skin unusually pale and his features perfectly formed. There was something about his mouth that made her want to kiss him. Every detail of his body was visible to her roaming eye, and she feasted on the sight of him. Like her, he was naked. Remembering the delights into which Vin and Silla had initiated her, Iylla envisaged how it might be to touch and explore the singularly beautiful man who lay stretched out so invitingly. His eyelids fluttered, and he turned. Iylla doubted he could have heard her stealthy movements, and wondered what force drew him to gaze in her direction. A slow smile spread across his face and she felt herself respond in kind. Still she did not dare to move. He rose with absolute grace and stalked towards her, his eyes never leaving her face. Iylla could hardly breathe, fearing that any movement would betray her into an absolute loss of control. Closer he came, stopping at last when he was barely a hand-span away from her. His fingers cupped her face, and the feel of his skin on hers sent her shivering with anticipation. “You came back,” he said. His voice was rich and mellow, the sound of it caressing her ears. “Dray summoned me, I felt it,” she answered, wishing she could say she had come back for him. “I said I would see you again.” His thumb skimmed over her lips. Feeling bold, she let her hands drift to his side. He felt so very warm and smooth to the touch. When he smiled, she ran her fingertips over his stomach, utterly focused on the shape of him. He drew her close, and she rose up on tiptoe, her mouth seeking his. The kiss was feather soft, and very slow. There was nothing urgent or demanding about the gentle pressure of his lips, as though they had all the time imaginable to explore one another. One of his hands found her hip, the other 49

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cradled the back of her head. Iylla ran her tongue over his mouth, and felt him yield, opening himself to her as she deepened the kiss. He tasted so very sweet, and the soft play of his tongue against hers made her giddy. She was close to losing her balance, but his hands kept her steady. He covered her face with kisses, pulling her tight against him. She could tell that he was aroused as his cock grew and pressed against her, much as Vin’s had done. Iylla pictured the two of them rolling in the grass, kissing, and touching. “You have grown so much, my little one,” he said. “I’ve learned a great deal.” “Not least of which being how to kiss.” “I can do more than kiss,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “Can you now?” Iylla could not tell if he was pleased or disappointed by this. Tremors of nerves fluttered in her stomach. She wanted him to be pleased, needed his approval. Before either of them could say anything else, she felt the tug of power and control that had drawn her to this place. It came sharp and hard, making her gasp, and stumble back from Leon’s embrace. “What?” He looked aggrieved. Iylla felt her feet moving under a compulsion she could not resist. She must move, and conclude her journey. “I cannot stay,” she said. She began to run again, not knowing what he might think or do. Even her fear of breaking cover could not hold her. She raced across the clearing. Dray was waiting for her further round the trunk. Only when she reached him did the pain in her chest subside. There was a relief to be had in that, but she also felt anger at being rendered so powerless. “How did you do that to me?” she demanded. “Now there’s a poor greeting. I’ll answer your question. I did it because I can. I own you and I required you here.” The words chilled her. Iylla knew he held the secret of her origins, but his feeling of utter weakness in his presence did not sit well with her. “It will be interesting to hear what she has learned,” Leon said. He was behind her, but Iylla could not turn to look at him. “I will tell you if there is anything you might benefit from knowing,” Dray replied. “Are you telling me to leave?” “Not in the least. Iylla will be leaving.” 50

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Leon moved closer, and Iylla found she could see him from the corner of her eye. He seemed agitated. “What do you mean to do with her?” “Take her back into the tree so that I can properly absorb and digest what she has learned.” “No!” Leon exclaimed. Dray shrugged. “We are wasting time and there is something on the wind I do not like the smell of. She is mine Leon, she always was.” “Don’t destroy her,” Leon said. “I don’t mean to destroy her, just take her back to me, where she belongs. Much as I enjoy your company Leon, you should stick to your own kind. I’m flattered that you find a part of me attractive, but this really is foolish.” “I gave her breath. She is her own being, aren’t you? Tell him Iylla, tell him what you are.” She struggled to find words, but her mouth would not work and no sound came. She wanted to protest her individuality, to demand her freedom, but could say nothing. Dray took her hand and she followed meekly after him. When his hand touched the bark, she felt his grip upon her slacken and she managed to turn her head. The expression on Leon’s face was anguished, and pierced her to the heart. She hoped he could tell from her eyes that she was not going willingly into the wood. A sharp tug pulled her into the hard, dark centre of the giant tree and oblivion. For a long time, Leon remained still, nursing his angry frustration as he stared at the impenetrable bark. The realms of wood were closed to him and he could not plunge into the tree’s heart in pursuit of the creature who had captivated him. Some Drays were more generous than others, he found. This one could be both temperamental and jealous. Leon knew all of the elder Drays, and many of the younger brethren. He was fond of many of them, watching over their fruitings with interest and telling them how their creations fared in the wider forest. He turned, meaning to leave the heartwood of Estraguil. There would be other things to do, and he could try and put Iylla from his mind. Looking at the array of straight, seemingly identical tracks fanning out from this grove, he wondered where he might venture. Perhaps he would seek out these incomers for himself and see what they were about. Dray had been right, there was a strange smell on the wind and he did not much like it either. He sniffed and recognised the faint tang of something burning. The 51

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forest was by nature a damp place. Sometimes lightening strikes would set a lone tree blazing, but that was rare enough and the flames never spread. This smelled far stronger than a lightening scorched tree. He wondered what it was. “Leon?” Turning back towards the glade of giant trees, he saw another Dray approaching. This one was craggy, gnarled and spindly, but his curmudgeonly looks belied a gentle character. “Can you smell that?” Dray asked. “I can. I was just wondering what it could be.” “It’s been on the air for days, blowing in along the old straight tracks. It’s so faint, most of the others haven’t noticed yet.” “That doesn’t surprise me.” Most of the Drays were very slow in reacting to anything. They lived at such imperceptible speeds that the creatures and plants around them came and went in a blink, barely observed. Some of them paid more attention to these fleeting things, but most did not. “I was thinking about going to look,” Dray suggested, gesturing with a narrow limb towards the nearest track. “I was wondering if it had anything to do with the incomers.” “You’ve heard about them then?” “By root and branch, messages travel a long way.” Leon nodded, and together they began to walk. This Dray had a soothing, settling presence that had taken the heat from his anger. He still felt raw and grieved by the loss of Iylla, but if her Dray had claimed her back, there was little hope of ever seeing her again. Her life had been fleeting. He was glad it had brushed alongside his for a while, but began the hard process of accepting what could not be. They had only been walking a little while when Dray motioned for them to stop. He placed his long, twisted fingers on the trunks of two trees, and they swung back, giving them a view out over the forest. They were on the side of a hill, and the trees swept away from them. On the horizon, two moons were rising. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Dray said. Leon nodded. The sight of the smaller moon made him think yet again of Iylla. “I think the little one will prove fickle,” Dray observed, “It will probably make things even more interesting, don’t you think?” “Where did she come from?” Leon asked. “She fell from the sky, but more than that, she has not told me.” 52

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“When she came, the sun grew pale.” “She has veiled him for a time, but he will recover.” Three dark shapes rose up from the trees, their bulky forms stark against the waning day. They moved ungainly through the air, bigger than any birds Leon knew of. His eyes could just make out the jets of fire they sent into the forest. Black smoke curled in long plumes, rising into the sky. “Who fruited those beasts?” Leon asked, amazed that any of the Drays might devise creatures whose nature compromised the subtle balance of the entire forest. “No one in the heartwood,” Dray replied. “Then where have they come from?” “Perhaps, like the incomers, they originate somewhere beyond the forest.” Leon disliked what he saw. Much care and attention had gone into creating harmony and balance in Estraguil whilst ensuring the forest would have life and vitality of its own. Sometimes things came in from outside, and usually they could be woven into the web. He doubted these monsters could be accommodated. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with sweet forest air. He could taste their taint in it. Leon breathed out long and hard. The trees before him shook and swayed as the gale erupted from his lips and buffeted them. The great air current swept across the sky. They were at too great a distance to knock them down, but he saw them caught and sent into disarray by his gust, and that afforded him some satisfaction. “If we cannot drive them out, you may have to make mates for them, something weak that will tame them for future generations,” Leon said. “They might not be incomers,” Dray pointed out. “There are other things in Estraguil capable of creation.”

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Chapter Eight

When hunting, they soon found it proved more effective to pick a hidden spot and wait for prey, than to rush noisily through the undergrowth driving off everything with ears to hear and a will to live. Silla and Charn sat in companionable silence, listening to the ever changing sounds of the forest, and watching for tell-tale movements. Only the previous day, they had caught one of the large mammals. Its flesh had been delicious, and its pale, mottled hide would serve them well for clothing. There was enough meat left that hunting would not be necessary for a day of so, but Silla liked the quiet time, undisturbed by others and free from more burdensome responsibilities. Charn cupped a hand around his ear to alert her, and Silla strained, trying to make out what had caught his attention. Something was moving very slowly over the leaves nearby. Looking around, she was unable to see anything. The subtle rustling came again, like a bird sifting for food. Her watchful eyes detected movement, as something casting a small shadow passed over the ground. It was as though the creature was invisible, and the thought of it made her stomach clench. Loading her sling, Silla made a best guess at her target, and cast her stone. The sound of impact was distinct. Following the arc of her missile, Charn launched his spear. They approached cautiously, not knowing what manner of danger they might have brought down, or what it might yet be capable of. The spear-tip was imbedded in something, that much was apparent. The shape of it was impossible to determine. Not invisible, Silla realised, just uncannily well camouflaged. Using her own spear, she poked tentatively in the direction of their catch. It was sizeable, and unresponsive. Once she felt confident that it would not attack her, she risked laying a hand on it. The body was warm and utterly still, and she could feel the distinctive texture of feathers. She nodded to Charn, and he pulled his spear away. Blood dripped from the tip, dark and comfortingly real. Silla gritted her teeth and lifted the thing, steeled against the possibility that it was merely playing dead and would lash out. The bird remained still. Once she held it, she could just about see its shape. It was large and almost spherical, with a small, limp head and a beak that suggested it could do little more than threaten a nasty scratch. 54

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“That’s very strange. I can see it now you’re holding it,” Charn said. “I’m wondering if we could use the feathers.” “That could be good.” Once they were back in the camp, Silla left her three nimble-fingered children to pluck the corpse and find some pot or bag that could take the feathers. Inside the shelter, it was gloomy and the air was a touch to close for her liking. Vin rolled over as she came in, looking up at her from his bed of leaves and furs. “How are you today?” she asked. “Well enough to be bored.” “That seems like a good sign.” New skin was starting to show through as his blisters healed. There would be scars on his beautiful body, but Silla did not think those would mar him. The marks of courage and honour never left a person less attractive in her esteem, no matter how sever the injury. Better to be disfigured for doing what you must, than a clean-skinned coward who shirked duty. “What are you thinking?” he asked. “How well you wear the proof of your bravery.” “I’d rather run my fingers over your scars than mine.” “It’s not as though I’m short of them,” she replied. Silla squatted down beside Vin and ruffled his hair. Since his injury, he had not bothered to oil or spike it. He looked rather young and vulnerable with his hair limp about his face. The first eight days had been the hardest, when Silla had feared for his life and Fenny came every morning to see how he fared, and sometimes visited in the evenings as well. Her ointments stank, but they seemed to lessen the pain. They had subdued him with certain herbs, protecting him from the worst of the pain. Vin had been badly burned down one side. He was lucky his face had only been singed slightly, or it might have cost him an eye. “Fenny said you aren’t to exert yourself.” “I can feel my muscles wasting for lack of use. I’ll be no good to anyone once that woman has finished with me.” “You’ll do as she says. If you won’t stay still of your own free will, I’ll tie you up.” He grinned boyishly. “You’d like that no doubt,” Silla said, amused. 55

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“I’d like anything,” his voice grumbled with his irritation at being confined. “It’s been a long time, and my balls are so full, they ache worse than my side does.” “I’m surprised you haven’t taken care of that for yourself.” “How can I? I have no choice but to lie on my good arm, under strict instruction to rest the other.” Frustration and playfulness mingled in his voice. . “It’s driving me to distraction, having this itch I can’t scratch. It’s worse for being able to smell you. You smell so very good.” Silla lowered herself into a sitting position and ran her fingers over the undamaged portion of his stomach. He was naked, the burns making covers too uncomfortable when he was awake. She could see that his cock was indeed hard and straining, demonstrating his frustration all too clearly. Her fingers skimmed over the smooth warmth of his erection. “Oh that’s good,” he murmured, his eyes closing with bliss. “You should have said something before,” her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You’ve been busy.” Her hand cupped his balls, feeling the swollen size of them. “I’m going to make you feel better,” she promised. Her fingers were strong and sure, working over his girth. The last time they had shared such intimacy, Iylla had been with them. Silla bitterly regretted the loss of the forest girl. They had begun something then that seemed ripe with possibility, but now it might never be explored. Life stole away so many opportunities before they had chance to fully form. The last flesh to be penetrated by the organ in her fingers was not her own, but Iylla’s. Memories of that encounter flickered through her mind as she worked her hand back and forth along his length. “I’ve missed your cock,” she admitted. “Well, it’s nice to know you have a use for some part of me.” “I treasure you my Vin, you know that.” “Who has kept you happy this last moon cycle?” he asked, not jealous, but curious. “No one.” “Not even Quin?” “No.” Silla decided this was not the time to elaborate on her strained relationship with Quin, or to mention the Athro’s increasingly distracted and disturbing state.

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“When you are fully healed, I’ll show you some of the quiet spots I’ve found round here,” she said. “I’ll lick your balls until you beg for mercy and ride you long and slow.” “I’ll hold you to that promise,” he shivered at her words. Silla could tell that her suggestions heightened his arousal, so she carried on, whispering graphic descriptions of the things she would do for him. He responded to comments about where she might put her tongue, and how she might invite him to touch her, by erupting hot and sticky into her palm. “I wish I could do something for you,” he said. “I’m not as energetic and horny as you. I can wait for now.” “You’ll be trying to tell me you’re too old again. The day you are too old for sex, is the day you stop breathing.” “Very probably.” She did want him. Her loins ached for the lack of his touch, and she missed the comfort of his embrace. Since the attack, she had not taken her pleasure in any form. His injury, Iylla’s flight and Quin’s derangement and conspired to rob her of all enthusiasm for such games. Now he was almost healed, and she could dare to imagine that she would get lie beneath him again, or to straddle him and ride upon his bucking hips.

**** “Have you time for me?” The voice was gentle and friendly. This was the Quin of old, the strong and tender woman who had shared her bed and her secrets for years. The reversion startled Silla. She lowered the spear shaft she had been working on. “Of course I do.” “I have not been myself,” Quin confessed. “It has been hard, with the Blessed Sun so pale and weakened, and this…” she made a broad sweeping gesture towards the forest. “I can’t pretend I like this place, but he has chosen it for us and here we must stay.” “I think it will serve us well enough once we learn its ways,” Silla replied. “I have seen a troubling thing, and I think you should know of it. I have had a vision of a man who walks naked in the forest. His skin is white like milk, and his face is young. He looks all sweetness, but his heart is poison. He can bring down storms from the sky. The wind that lashed us not so long back was of his making I think. He hunts for us.” “Are you sure?” Silla pressed. “I am sure enough to worry. He is a power. There are many powers in this forest, he is one of them. He walks the roads between the worlds. I have seen them in my dreams 57

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and they frighten me. I do not know where they go, but I fear those visions with all my heart.” “We can keep guard. If there is only one of him, how much harm could he do?” “More than we could imagine. The wind is his breath, and he means us ill.” “What do you suggest?” Quin’s visions had guided them well in the past, and proved invaluable. Her predictions of threats before them had saved innumerable lives. However strange she might have been lately, Silla decided it would be best not to abandon all faith in the woman. “We have to cut down more trees. He is a forest creature. Without the trees they are nothing. They are weak, powerless. Only through the powers of the forest are beings like him able to threaten us. Make this clearing bigger, then if he does come to us, we might have some protection,” Quin suggested. “But the trees are the only thing that will grant us protection if the gwibers return.” “They will not return.” “Are you certain?” Silla asked. “As I live and breathe. I do not think they ever meant to harm us, only the forest animal you took in.” “The gwibers were not of the forest, were they?” Silla asked. She saw Quin’s eyes glow fiercely for a moment, then fall dark again. “I cannot say, but my vision is certain, they will not return to harm us.” Silla looked around her at the great swathe of majestic trees. She had learned to love their gloom, the sweet air beneath them and their proud, silent, unchanging forms. She disliked the idea of wantonly slaughtering them, much as she disliked killing anything beyond absolute need. Lately she had come to believe there was little distinction to be made between the trees and those who lived in their protection. Her people had taken as much wood as they needed, and more, there was little justification for further felling. On the other hand, if their future safety required it, she could not ignore Quin’s words. “I will set people to cutting,” she said reluctantly.

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Chapter Nine

He hadn’t meant to go back, not so swiftly. The sight of the impenetrable trunk that held Iylla forever from him was enough to sear Leon’s passionate heart and he had no desire to look upon it again. Still, he had seen too much and those who dwelled in the heartwood needed to know. The clearing was utterly still, bathed in sunlight and without breezes. Nothing stirred. For all he knew, they might all be watching him. Licking his lips, Leon offered his voice to the grove. His song was subtle as air moving over leaves, light as mist, but as penetrating as the coldest winter blast. They would hear him and stir from their slumber. The quickest were not long in coming, sprightly Drays who kept closer touch with the forest beyond their dreaming glade. Others moved more slowly, creaking and lumbering, their forms unpractised and unfamiliar. One by one they emerged from the trunks, drawn by his urgent cry. When they spoke, their voices rumbled and resonated around the glade. Their tones were low and burred, the words they shared came slowly, each one drawn out with care. “There is trouble in Estraguil,” Leon said, abandoning his song of summoning now that most were assembled. It was somewhat disorientating being in the presence of so many Drays. Both time and light seemed to bend awkwardly around them and their wakeful presence leant the grove of ancient trees an eerie air. “We have felt it,” one said, “We have felt the fires and the cutting. Pain runs in root and branch, anger speaks through the leaves of the fallen.” “We have felt the needless death. We always accepted that the living must prey upon each other, that death would be the power driving life in this place, but there is no need in this, nothing thrives. It is pure destruction,” a rasping, crackling voice added. “There is fear in the soil.” “A new power stalks in the forest, a power that will not become one with us. We have sought to reach out in peace but it does no good.” “This one has to rule, will accept no compromise. I can hear its malevolence. If we do not respond in kind, it will destroy us.” “To respond in kind would destroy us just as surely.” 59

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“It will butcher our trees.” “I have seen them,” Leon said, and the thicket of Drays around him grew silent and still. “I meant to seek them out, but the sight of the destruction they wrought turned me away in disgust. They have felled more trees than I can count. More than they could use for building or for fuel. It goes beyond need, it is, as you say, something far worse. They have brought war to Estraguil and will massacre the trees and everything that depends upon them.” Leon recognised the Dray who pushed through the throng as being Iylla’s creator. “I too have observed them.” There was a rustling hubbub of uncertain voices. “I sent fruit of mine out to learn of them, and I have gleaned much knowledge. They are clever animals, these incomers. They work together, wearing the skins of other creatures. They are bound to a power, this new power that has been spoken of. It is a power of fire and sun, but I do not know its true name, that much my creature could not glean.” There was a long silence before Dray spoke again. “You cannot fight fire with wood. I will fashion fruits that can face them and drive them from Estraguil. Perhaps if they leave, their power will leave with them.” “And if it does not?” another Dray asked. “It will be a lone power in a hostile place. There are many who will not like its coming. Leon has brethren of his own, and there are others.” “Assuming it does not ally with another. These things have happened before,” Leon pointed out, dredging up the ghost of a memory from the depths of his careful forgetting. Dray shrugged. “We do what we can, and if all else fails, we find the means to adapt. I have fruits to attend to. The rest of us may want to consider this at length.” He paced back towards his tree. Leon found it hard to read the mood of the remaining Drays. He supposed most of them were still thinking about what had been said, while the slower ones were still trying to find out what all the fuss was about. They creaked and rocked, some humming softly, some intertwining with each other in private communications. The keepers of the heartwood would not be quick in responding to the rapid crisis made by short lived tree cutters.

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Some of the other Drays were still apparent in the grove when the fruiting began. It was a frequent and familiar process. The first dull thud came as a leafy pod descended from high in the branches, opening on impact. Dray stepped in swiftly to asses his creation. This one was male, with skin like his own and leafy tendrils protruding from his otherwise humanoid body. Dray gazed long and hard at the motionless creature. It would have to live and adapt in a world that would present it with numerous challenges. They would all need to be free thinking individuals. Drawing moisture into his mouth, Dray dampened a finger tip and pressed a damp mark onto the fruit’s forehead. “Branch,” he murmured, “you will always be close to the trees that gave you life.” Another pod thumped into the ground. Hearing the sound, Dray rose and went to attend to the next one. This one was fashioned from Iylla’s memory of the incomers. Its dark skin was covered with blue lines, depicting forest creatures. It was a delicate, androgynous being, but he had meant it to be so. Dray licked his finger, touching the cold forehead. “Light,” he said, “be what they want to see most.” The next to fall was female, with pale skin and a light down of white hairs. “Jewel, half hound,” he whispered, “You will have two skins.” There were two more males, and another female. He named them Seed, Rain, and, thinking of Leon, Air. He gave each their blessings in turn. They made a small fighting force, but one he hoped would have the skills to work with the forest and drive out those who threatened it. He looked at them in turn, seeing the awareness growing within them. They needed someone to guide and shape them, someone who could keep them together and decide what should be done. Dray would not go out with them into the forest. He did not like to stray too far from his own tree as it weakened him considerably. There was only one real choice, but he felt uneasy about it. Having picked through Iylla’s mind, Dray knew fully the things she had experienced, and the passion she felt for some of the incomers. Her divided loyalties were a hazard to his plans. He could compel her to a degree. However, he could not rip the treacherous memories of lust from her mind without the risk of compromising her usefulness. Once she was gone from him, he could not be certain how well the compulsion would hold, or what she might undertake to do. There was also the issue of Leon’s fascination with her. He was glad the wandering one had gone for now and would not know what he was about. Dray considered the issues at length, weighing and balancing the risks and advantages to each course of action. After much deliberation, he turned back to his tree trunk, and with a low voice, commanded Iylla out of the bark. 61

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She struggled forth, uncertain on her feet and blinking against the light. Her eyes were fierce and he knew she resented what had been done to her. Before she had chance to speak or act, he dabbed a moist thumb to her forehead, binding her to his will. “You will go into the forest together,” he said. “You will find the tree-cutters and drive them out. Kill them if needs be. Show them no mercy, as they have shown no mercy to the trees they butcher. Rid the forest of them. This is my command to you.” They would not know how to run the dark roads, and he did not have the time to teach them. Dray led his creatures to the edge of the glade and made an opening. From here they could plunge into Estraguil and make their own way. He watched them go, wondering how they would fare. Turning back to the glade, he noticed that other trees were bearing pods in various states of maturity. He wondered what strange fruit the other Drays would think to produce for the fight that lay ahead.

**** The compulsion to run worked lungs and limbs mercilessly, over-riding every other thought or instinct. Iylla had some idea of what had been done to her, and she fought, bringing to bear all the will she possessed to gain control of her racing legs and pounding heart. She would not be governed by another. Her rage at imprisonment was still strong, her memory of lying petrified in the tree, barely existing beyond a whisper of consciousness, was cruelly fresh. She could not forgive what had been done to her. Looking at the group of beings who ran along side her, Iylla recognised them for newly fashioned things. They had been sent out to do Dray’s bidding in the world, just as she had been only a short time previously. With no knowledge of themselves or each other, they would be lost, troubled things. How could she enable them to understand themselves when she remained ignorant of her own nature? Fresh waves of anger rolled through her psyche. She could break away, throw off the force of her maker’s will and seek her own destiny in the forest. These others could be left to bear his demands if she did that. Iylla looked at them again, as the first rush of impetus slackened and they began to glance at each other with questioning eyes. They were so painfully new and fragile, so uncertain. There could be no abandoning them, not knowing as she did what it meant to be lost and alone in the world. Furthermore, these were the only beings she had met who were truly like her. They might look different, but they shared common origins and that was enough to bind her into feelings of belonging and duty. They would need her in the days to come, and she had no idea if she could be equal to such a challenge. Dray’s orders rang clear and ominous through her thoughts. He was sending this inexperienced handful of creatures to drive out Silla’s company. They would be 62

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outnumbered more than ten to one, and those they faced were experienced fighters, armed with effective weapons. To be sent back to destroy Silla and Vin was something Iylla knew she could not do. That was too much. They did not merit such violent responses, whatever Dray might think. She could not be party to his designs. It would either mean the destruction of this little band, or the suffering of those she cared for. Wracked between impossible choices, Iylla tried to focus on the present--namely getting the rest of them to stop running and listen to her. As they breached a clearing, a wall of fire erupted in front of them. “Keep to the trees,” Iylla screamed. There were shadows overhead, dark and menacing forms that breathed death and pain. Her little band scattered, taking to the forest, as a second volley of fire rained down. Iylla pressed herself against the bowl of a tree, hoping to be hidden. She was still hunted then. Looking up, she could see the ungainly beasts circling. One dropped down into the clearing, staggering slightly as it landed. She could smell its vile breath as it sniffed about. Iylla did not dare to even inhale as she watched. Her chest burned, but she feared the slightest sound or movement might draw its attention. The head turned suddenly, and she saw a jet of flame scorch the trees a few paces from her. It appeared to her that they could not sustain the fires for long. She supposed that like everything else they must rest and feed. After a few increasingly feeble attempts at scorching its prey, the monster lowered its bulk to the ground and began to feed. It was indiscriminate, taking fallen branches, grass and earth alike. Seeing it occupied, Iylla edged away from the clearing and began the difficult task of rounding up her little group. Fear had slowed them all, but they had sprinted off in different directions. “Never go out in the open,” she said. “We were lucky, that thing could have killed us. No matter what, stay under the trees.” “What was it?” one of the smaller males asked. “I don’t know. They have attacked me before. They are too big to get in amongst the trees. We are safe only as long as we don’t break cover.” There were nods of agreement and acceptance of her words. “We must go,” the largest male said. The attack had shaken the influence of Dray’s command, but not broken it. Iylla could only hope they would live to learn some wisdom.

**** Weariness eventually won over the compulsion that drove them. Running slowed to a trot, then as they light faded, they could do little more than stumble on over the 63

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uneven ground. Iylla studied their surroundings, trying to find some suitable spot where they could rest. Much of the ground was damp and the overhang of a bank which had looked tempting, showed signs of fresh earth-falls. She did not want to be buried alive. At last, a suitable outcrop of rock presented itself, with a flat shelf they could sleep on and several leaning stones that might keep off any rain a little. “We stop here,” she said. Six pairs of weary, questioning eyes turned upon her. “You have to sleep,” she said, “and tomorrow we have to find food, and water.” The female whose body was covered in pale down lowered her head. “We must keep going,” she said. “Who are you?” Iylla asked abruptly. “He called me Jewel.” “Jewel, listen to me, you cannot run forever. You must rest, sleep, and feed.” The advantage with stopping, Iylla knew, was that it allowed them all time to think and question. Where are we? What are we doing? What are we? She could see the doubts, uncertainties and fears in their eyes. They needed to face these questions. The sooner, the better. She could only hope she would be able to help them find good answers. “If we huddle together, we can stay warm,” she said. It was easier than she had expected to herd them into the meagre shelter of the stones. Shared body heat kept out the night a little. Fighting off both hunger and exhaustion, Iylla took the opportunity to tell them what she could. “I was the first,” she said, “Dray made me and I have lived in the forest more than a cycle of the big moon.” “What is the moon?” Rain asked. Iylla realised it was going to be a long night. There were so many things she could not answer for herself. She told them what she could. Eventually they slipped away into dreams. Iylla lay still, warmed by the closeness of her fellow creatures, but unable to find peace. She did not want to be responsible for them, but could not abandon them to Dray’s cruel and hopeless scheme. Her thoughts drifted inevitably to Leon and the expression of anguish on his face when they had parted. Iylla wished she could lay her head against his shoulder, that the arm circling her hip was his. The thought of being close to him carried her far from the realities of her situation. She could imagine it perfectly--the feel of his skin against hers, the rise and fall of his breath. As she drifted nearer to sleep, Iylla could almost believe it real. “Where are you?” he asked with the voice of a dream. 64

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Chapter Ten

From the primeval chaos of the forest, they had brought the wonder of order. Sturdy wooden shelters stood proud and dependable against the extremities of weather they had suffered. Signs of hard work and settled living abounded--skins stretched out on frames to dry, bones and horns stacked ready to be transformed into useful things. Wood cut and carved to make bowls, cups, spears, fences and more. Little plots of land had been cleared, and edible forest plants brought in for cultivation. Quin thought it a pity they had kept none of their animals through the long flight. Every last one of them had been eaten long before they reached their current home. She supposed there might be things from the forest they could domesticate as they had done with other animals before the wars. Anything might be possible. Where once there had only been trees and wilderness, there was now something civilised, something human and good. The sight of it cheered her. The Blessed Sun had seen them to safety and his bounty was great. Still she did not feel entirely at ease. It seemed that there were eyes upon her in the gloom. She was certain there were watchers amongst the trees and although things seemed tranquil, she doubted it was truly so. Her people were building a ditch and rampart now, to keep out wandering forest creatures. There were things that came from amongst the trees as night shadows, taking bones, sniffing, defecating and otherwise making their unwelcome presence felt. Quin could see the early evening watch walking the wide circuit around the settlement. The scene was peaceful and secure – it pleased her to observe their achievements. A strong inclination drew her back to the sacred fire pit. Quin responded quickly, as she did to all such moments of intuition. As evening was encroaching, the flames were already lit. One of her students--a monosyllabic girl called Trist--had undertaken that duty amongst others. “You may go home now,” Quin told her. Trist rose to her feet and nodded, slipping away quietly. She was good at doing as she was told, a quality Quin appreciated in those she instructed. The fire was small, but adequate for her meditation. Only when she was sure of her solitude did she speak allowed. 65

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“You called to me.” Was she imagining it, or did the flames burn a little higher at her words? Quin fed the fire, pulling long branches from the pile Trist had made and laying them over the burning mass before her. Flames lapped at her offerings, and she watched as the image of her God took form in the heart of the blaze. She had seen him more times than she could number, but the sight of the deity manifest never failed to fill her with awe. It hurt her eyes to look at him, and tears streaked her cheeks as she gazed at his fiery form. “Quin.” His voice rumbled through her psyche. “Come into the fire.” For a second she hesitated. His hand stretched towards her, glimmering and insubstantial. The fire was all too hot and real enough to burn her flesh and injure her body. Myriad doubts and thoughts flashed through her mind, leaving her confused and apprehensive. At last Quin dared to look up into her deity’s face. His eyes locked upon hers, his presence consuming and commanding. There was wisdom in his expression, knowledge and passion. It gave her courage. She must do this for his sake, no matter what it cost her. Expecting agony and torment, Quin stepped forwards. There was heat, but no pain where his hand touched hers. The sensation was akin to being exposed to the heat of midday on the open plains, bearable but intense. The Blessed Sun drew her close, and Quin hardly dared to look upon him for fear that such closeness might overpower her entirely. She was afraid, utterly aware of her every feeling and movement, and more alive than she had ever been. Images of his intention fluttered through her brain, setting her alight in terrifying ways. There was no scope for resistance or refusal now, she could only surrender, submit and be his tool. Fiery arms surrounded her, pulling her against the inferno of his chest. Quin closed her eyes against the heat as her skin prickled and she struggled for breath. Her senses reeled, all notion of direction stripped away. The skins she wore fell from her shoulders, until all that remained against her skin was the talisman she wore in his honour. Sweat dripped from her pores, to steam away in the heat. Quin had never given herself to a man, and had never sought such embraces. Her few lovers had all been powerful women. Men had never been to her taste and in all her years, she had never felt her passion sparked by the presence of male flesh. She could never have imagined the transformation her God wrought with his scorching form and his sheer masculinity. This new feeling crackling through her veins went beyond desire. The urgency rising from the depths of her flesh was unfamiliar. It spiralled higher to meet his great heat and answer it. Her body was in his hands, held firm and steady so that she felt as though she was floating in a pool of fire. Heat penetrated her, rising up between her legs to inflame her belly and set her breasts burning. Fluid and shifting, a liquid flame, he 66

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filled her, scorching her depths. It seemed impossible to her that she could survive such an encounter. She must surely combust, ignited by the scalding passions of her God. This was beyond pleasure, beyond any sensation she knew how to name or comprehend. His utter possession of her body seemed sublime. Her claiming was absolute, as she made no resistance to his work. Between her thighs the Blessed Sun was both smouldering and firm at once, giving pressure and pleasure to her cunt. In her mind’s eye swam images of something molten, heated until it lost all form and reason. Quin thought she was seeing herself. He was within her and around her, engulfing her with flame and passion, the two indistinguishable as they ravished her body. She knew what he was about, that he would get a miracle on her body, that she would be the vessel of his intent. He would send a new life to them, one that could protect them from their enemies and save them from the myriad dangers of the forest. Quin felt as though something deep inside her started to give. Fine strands were breaking, as she came apart to make way for the Blessed Sun. Quin shuddered and wept, her body carried beyond all normal endurance as she served her God to the fullness of his desire. It seemed to Quin that she had no body left at all, that she was a being of light, made pure and free by the fire of his lust. For a time un-measurable, the athro knew nothing but the magnificence of her deity, filling her, consuming her, destroying her and making her anew. His presence was sublime, his possession and mastery of her absolute. The glorious moment eventually passed, and then she fell, down through eons of darkness and oblivion, to the cold, hard ground that waited for her battered form. On the following morning Trist found Quin lying crumpled and deathly still in the fire pit. The woman’s skins had burned away to fragile remnants and her entire body was black with soot. “Quin!” the girl cried in fear, dropping to her knees amongst the ash and embers. The athro stirred faintly, and Trist could see that her teacher was breathing. The girl did not ask what had happened, but half lifted, half dragged Quin from the pit and bathed her skin with cool water. She was amazed to find the older woman undamaged beneath the ash and grime. Quin made a slow but determined return to consciousness, aided by water and gentle words. The memories were fading too fast, her mortal mind unable to encompass the wonder she had experienced. It was something she could never speak of. For a little while at least, she had been truly beloved of the God. Her stomach already felt heavy and swollen. Looking down she could see that a round curve had replaced her usually lean 67

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and spare shape. It would not be long before the Blessed Sun’s will was manifest in the world. She rejoiced in this, and offered up a silent prayer of thanks first for the honour he had bestowed upon her, and secondly for the salvation she knew this gift would bring.

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Chapter Eleven

There were so many prints and tracks in the soft earth as to remove any scope for doubt. Many people had walked this part of the forest over a fair period of time, certainly more than a few days. There were cleared paths through the undergrowth, but Iylla and her companions stayed well away from those, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence. In just a few days, they had learned a good deal of patience and stealth, enabling them to pass unnoticed between the trees. Iylla remembered there being a moderately sized clearing with a few makeshift shelters. She had expected to find it changed, but not altered beyond recognition. From the branches of an old tree, she looked out at a startling scene. The exposed area was vast, with mighty trees strewn across the ground. The soil had been piled up in places, making steep banks that would be difficult to cross. Stout poles made a barricade across the top of these, banishing the forest from the clearing. Wood had been fashioned into complex constructions, with people coming in and out of these. Fires smoked, and the place teemed with life and activity. It was an alien, disturbing sight. She understood now why Dray wanted these people gone. This place was utterly wrong and at odds with the very nature of the forest. Regardless of her feelings for Vin and Silla, she knew this destruction could not be allowed to continue. Her only hope was to find some way of ending it without shedding too much blood. “What do we do?” Branch asked when she descended. “I don’t know. There are many of them, and difficult obstacles in our way. We cannot run in and attack them.” “They would notice us to soon?” Rain asked. “At once. We are very different from them,” Iylla explained. Iylla paused and considered what little she knew about each of her companions. They had all been formed with different skills and strengths, but none seemed to lend themselves to this quandary. It occurred to her the white-furred female, Jewel, had said she would wear two skins. They had not yet explored what that could mean. Iylla pondered this. “What of your second skin Jewel?” she asked. 69

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“I don’t know,” Jewel answered. “What does it mean, where do you find it?” Jewel’s brow furrowed. “I can feel it,” she said. “Can you find it?” Iylla pressed, following a gut feeling. She watched as Jewel struggled and strained, sweat pouring down her angular face. The female’s long ears stretched slightly, but nothing further happened. “I know what you’re asking, and I don’t know if I can do it.” Taken aback slightly by how hard this was proving, Iylla kept her desire to plead for greater effort quiet. She watched apprehensively as Jewel dropped onto all fours, her back arching. Her muscles were taut with the strain, as though her body might tear apart at any moment. It seemed to Iylla as though Jewel folded in upon herself like an exotic flower closing to a tight bud. When she bloomed again, she was no longer a creature they recognised. The downy coating of pale fur became a thick, sleek pelt, the narrow face lengthened becoming narrower yet, dominated by pinkish red eyes and sharp-looking teeth. Thin but powerful looking, she was a striking creature. Iylla was impressed. “Can anyone else do this?” she asked. “Not to that shape,” Branch said, “I can take plant forms. My second skin is bark.” None of the others said anything. “Can you go amongst them?” Iylla asked. “Be very careful, those spears can kill, and they can be thrown some way.” The creature Jewel had become nodded, and set off at a trot, slinking over the open ground and following the line of the digging. After a little while, she leapt over a felled tree, and vanished out of view. “What now?” Seed asked, running a hand over his smooth, curled horns. He gave every sign of being impatient to be going. Branch sat down, leaning his back against the trunk of a small tree. He became so still that he looked to Iylla as though he might have grown there. Air clambered up one of the larger trees to keep watch. Like Iylla, his fingers were clawed, giving him easy purchase on the bark. Light cleared his throat, and Iylla looked at him. “Yes?” she asked. “I think I should go too.” “Why?” “How do you see me?” Light asked. 70

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“What do you mean?” “What do I look like Iylla?” “Taller than me, with dark, soft looking hair. Not the strongest looking male I’ve seen, but agile.” Iylla said, perplexed. “What do you see, Branch?” “You are shorter than me, with skin like bark and trails of plants instead of hair. Why does Iylla see you differently?” Light did not answer, but instead invited Rain to speak. “I think you look a lot like Dray,” she said. “You look female to me,” Air put in. Seed nodded agreement. “That was Dray’s gift to me - that I should be what people want to see.” Iylla could see the advantages and perils this might bring. “Then you are right - you should go, but be careful. You don’t know these people or what they might want with you.”

**** Following the edge of the forest, Light waited until the others were a safe distance behind, then braved the open space. There were plenty of fallen trees to provide cover, and the barricades were some distance away. Moving closer, the strange people they were supposed to oust became visible. There were many of them, fur clad and busy using tools to cut into the soil and pile it up. Others brought stout poles to add to the wall of wood. None of them seemed to notice the lone figure creep in from amongst the trees. It seemed better to avoid them, they were too many for one creature to face. It would be better to find one alone, or better still to wander the place unchallenged and learn how its treecutting inhabitants could be driven out. A sound attracted Light’s attention. It was a little like bird song, only richer, deeper and more compelling than usual. Drawing closer, Light realised that there were words in the haunting melody, and stopped to listen to this enchanting marvel. “Come back to me when seasons turn, When the trees are decked in bright array And mists creep through the morning light. Return with kisses to my waiting arms.” Light ventured closer, wanting to know where this song came from. Keen ears guided Light well. The source of the song proved to be a man, sat on one of the tree trunks. His eyes were closed in concentration, and his expression appeared sorrowful. 71

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“Come back before the wilwens fly, You who have wandered so many miles. Remember me, who fought your leaving, And mourns loosing your sweet company.” The loss in his voice made Light ache in unfamiliar ways. Moving a little closer, and Light’s foot alighted on a dry twig. The sharp crack made the man open his eyes. As he looked around for his intruder, his face lit up with joy. “Iylla!” Light glanced back over her shoulder, half expecting to find the diminutive female had followed behind. There was no sign of anyone close by. The man had spoken to her then. Light wondered what this meant. “Are you well?” he dropped down from the tree and hurried to her. His hands clasped Light’s shoulders and his face pressed into the bare skin there. Startled by this display, Light froze, not knowing how to act for the best. The man held on tightly, gripping Light to him as though he meant never to let her go. Light had no idea how to respond, so remained still. The feel of his mouth on neck, then cheek was compelling. At last his lips found Light’s. It was strange and sweet, this moist contact of mouths. Light liked it, and wondered if this was a normal greeting amongst this group of people. If this was how they treated each other, they could not be all bad. “Where have you been?” he asked. Light didn’t think it a good idea to reply, so kissed him again instead. He groaned and ran his hands down Light’s back, circling persuasively with his palms. “Silla is going to be so pleased. I know she’s missed you as much as I have, little forest wanderer,” he said. The man took Light’s hand, and set off through the encampment. People turned to look, their expressions surprised more often than not. Light wondered who, or what they were seeing. There were far more of them than Light had expected. Most had dark skin and eyes. Instead of feathers like Iylla, fronds like Branch or hair like the others, these people had something hard and spiky-looking on their heads. Light wondered what it was. It made them all look rather surprised. There was a woman, short and strong looking. On her arm, a blue mark that resembled a plant twined over firm muscles. She was working a long piece of wood, paring it down. “Look who I found!” the man at Light’s side called out. 72

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“Iylla?” The woman rose to her feet and approached cautiously, then threw her arms around Light’s neck. “I thought they must have caught you.” Light wondered how long it would be before one of these people realised she wasn’t Iylla, but another forest creature entirely. The woman, Silla she assumed, took Light’s hands and held them firmly. “I want to know everything,” she said, “where have you been?” “Lost in the forest,” Light tried. They seemed to accept this explanation. Food was placed offered as Light tried to bluff through answering their endless questions. This was not what Light had expected. Having been sent into the world with a clear image of the threat to be destroyed, Light struggled to reconcile this scene to prior assumptions. Butchers of trees: Violent, dangerous, careless people who would ruin all that was beautiful about the forest. Unexpectedly, these individuals seemed friendly and generous. Admittedly they had mistaken Light for someone else, but not for one of their own by the looks of things. Light wondered at the exact nature of Iylla’s relationship with these noisy, enthusiastic people. A woman marched up, her presence causing a wary silence to fall. Her skin was wrinkled, and her back utterly straight. She stopped in front of Silla, dangerously calm, like a storm about to break. “Get that thing out of here while you still can.” “Peace my Quin, please. She is one alone, no threat.” “You do not see what I see. I see a beast who wears many faces, but will consume us all. I see blood and danger.” Light did not dare even to draw breath. This was more the sort of reception Dray had conveyed to them all. “If you saw what I see, you would understand,” Quin pressed. “Would I? I don’t know.” Silla’s voice was cold. Light realised there was a lot going on beneath the surface of the conversation. The dispute and Light’s presence combined to draw others in. “This creature is dangerous,” Quin reiterated. There were so many voices that Light could not follow them. Names were spoken, fingers pointed. Light guessed they were starting to realise that no two of them saw the figure before them in quite the same way. The voices sounded increasingly hostile by the moment. Silla was shouting now, arguing with half a dozen people, her 73

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voice harsh and strained. The man remained at her side, his posture defensive. It was too difficult to make sense of what was happening, and there were so many people pressing round that running would be hard. Many of them had sharpened stones, some bound to sticks to give them greater reach. Iylla had told them about these weapons. They could kill her very easily. Light did not know how to fear death, but could not risk failing to return. Someone touched Light’s arm. An older one, with peculiarly light, bright eyes raised his eyebrows suggestively. Light had a feeling he was offering help and decided there was little to be lost in trusting him. Things could hardly get any worse. There were three of the smaller ones with him. A short way behind him was the entrance to a shelter. The largest child sprinted off around the crowd, shouting a cry that Light could not interpret. Whatever he called, it drew everyone’s attention. The old man and the younger one stepped in front of her, and the two remaining children grabbed her hands and hauled her into the shelter. With nimble fingers they loosed a board from the back of the gloomy construction, and Light was able to squeeze free. Light was a matter of paces from the chaos that ensued. With heart muscles pounding wildly Light knew these compassionate people had created a chance for escape. Dray’s gift would blind most of the crowd to Light’s presence, so long as no one came too close. Light fled from the gathering concentrating on staying hidden. It was vital to reach the forest unseen. Then it would be safe to try and find the others. Thinking back over all that had happened, fear gripped Light afresh. The woman who had made the accusations burned with obvious malice, and Light had never seen anything like it before. To be hated so fiercely was disturbing indeed. This was the violence that could strip vast swathes of land of trees, that would poison and ruin Estraguil.

**** Rage made Quin incoherent as she stormed around in search of her lost prey. The menacing forest beast had been so close, but had evaded her. She should have taken her sharp stone knife to it while she had the chance. Opportunities like that would not come again, it would be wary now. “Find it,” she commanded. There were plenty of people who leapt to obey her demand. “Let it go, it means no harm,” Silla countered. Some of them hesitated, but enough went. They at least had the sense to recognise a threat when it marched so brazenly into their home. “You do not have the right to command,” Silla spat her words out. 74

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“Your right comes by birth. It belongs to the life we left behind Silla. If you prove yourself a fool, no one will follow you, not even for your mother’s sake,” Quin pointed out. “Are you challenging me?” Quin was about to offer an affirmative answer when a shot of pain shook her. A hard, fierce hurt gripped her loins and stomach. Gasping, she staggered. Silla’s expression remained cold and unyielding. “Are you challenging me?” she repeated. “Yes,” Quin said, her composure regained. “You would lead in my place?” Silla was incredulous and her voice betrayed this all too plainly. “If I must. Better that than watch you invite evil into our midst.” Silla sighed heavily and Quin thought perhaps she was giving up. “Why do you mistrust Iylla so?” “She belongs to the forest, and the Blessed Sun tells me that there are monsters here to lead us into dark ways. I put my faith in the Blessed Sun, and he tells me she is cursed.” “So you say.” “Do you dare to doubt me?” “Yes Quin, yes I do. When the midnight sun burned in the sky, you couldn’t tell us what it meant. You did not foresee the darkening of the sun, nor the coming of the second moon and you’ve had precious little insight into either. I would rather know why the storms have been so frequent, and what the little moon means for us. I think you cannot answer those questions and so you try to divert our attention to Iylla and the forest.” Another bolt of pain shot through Quin’s body, making her cry out and clutch her hands to her hips. She had no idea what was happening to her. It was a while before she could find the breath to speak again. “The forest has corrupted you,” she said. “That would make things easy for you. Not everyone here is going to accept your empty statements. I won’t be the only one with questions,” Silla countered. Quin looked around at those who remained. Silla was right in her way - she was not the only one who had been too deeply touched by the forest. There were others who would need cleansing. Some perhaps would need cleansing with fire. The third stab of pain dropped Quin to her knees, and thence to her hands as well as she struggled with the agony that wracked her. Something hot and wet gushed between 75

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her legs. It felt as though her body was being ripped open, forced wide beyond her control. The pain made her eyes sting hot tears. There were voices around her, questions, but none of it fully penetrated the veil of gut-twisting sensation. They came quickly enough, a hot wriggling gush of life that flowed from her. She could not see them, could not open her eyes to find out what was leaving her womb. Silla would see them and be forced to repent, Quin thought. She would have to understand. Sweating and straining, Quin’s body squeezed out the gift her god had bestowed. Life poured from her loins, life formed of his spirit and power. She felt them running over her hands and legs, felt the nips of their sharp teeth in her skin. At last it was over, and she dropped down to lie on the soil. The absence of pain seemed like an ecstasy in itself. It took a lot of will to open her eyes. The soil around her was red with blood, and across it skittered a multitude of small, brilliant lizards. Quin had no idea what they were, or how they could save her people. Their presence filled her with awe and gratitude. They had come from her body, they would save everyone. Looking up, she saw that Silla was backing away, a look of horror distorting her face. “A miracle of the Blessed Sun,” Quin croaked. Her mouth tasted metallic and she realised she had bitten her tongue. “What have you done?” Silla murmured. All around was terrible silence. No one cheered, or cried out in praise of the Sun. The lizards massed together. With uncanny speed, they fell upon the nearest man, scrambling up his legs until his body was covered with their shimmering forms. Perhaps this was their purpose then, to make a deity-blessed hero of one of them. The man tried to pull them off, but there were too many and more climbed to take their place. He began screaming. There was a pungent smell in the air, like burning. Those few areas of his skin that were visible started to crisp and darken like cooking meat. He fell, and smoke rose from him, his body writhing in obvious torment as the lizards did their work. Silla was the first to move, pulling lizards from the man’s thrashing body and despatching them with her knife. Others soon dived in to help, slaughtering the divine gift. Quin implored them to stop, but no one heard her. Around her, the ground was covered with escaping lizards. By the time they had gone, the man was dead. It looked as though he had been consumed by some inner fire.

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Chapter Twelve

It was almost dark by the time Light returned to Iylla and the others. Jewel was already back, looking wary and wide eyed, but otherwise unharmed. “You are safe!” Branch exclaimed. “We were worried,” Iylla said. “They did not see me leave, you are secure enough for now.” Light said. “What did you learn?” “They thought I was you,” Light replied, dropping gratefully to the ground. Iylla could see the foray had taken a toll, both of mind and body. “Who did?” she asked. “A man, and a woman. Her name was Silla. There was another, Quin, who tried to get them to kill me. She is the heart of the tree killing, I know it. The man helped me escape.” “Vin,” Iylla breathed. “You know them?” “I know them well.” “He was strange. He touched my mouth with his and put his hands on me and…” Light trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. Iylla’s heart ached with a mix of envy and understanding. “I liked it, but I don’t understand it” Light concluded, barely speaking above a whisper. “What does it mean?” Rain asked. “The incomers do it to show care for each other. There is something creatures do to make young, and we can do it as well. I do not know if we could have young though.” “Would you show me?” Rain pressed. Light shrugged and stepped forwards. Iylla watched how tentatively they touched and remembered her own first explorations. It all seemed so very long ago. Light and Rain kissed, arms around each other, mouths working slowly. The others watched fascinated, but it was not long before Air stepped up, putting his hands on the kisser’s shoulders and inviting himself in. Both Light and Rain turned to kiss his cheeks and lips. 77

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Iylla felt a lump rise in her throat. There was something so sweet about this that it was almost painful. They were so new and uncertain, running fingers over each other’s bodies, exploring those things that made each different. Taking his cues from the others, Seed offered his hands to Jewel, drawing her close to them and stroking her downy hair. Light broke away and went to Branch, squatting before him. “Do you want this?” “I don’t know,” Branch answered, the only one of them who had not taken to it readily. “Would you like me to touch you?” Light asked. Branch hesitated. “Yes,” he said, and reached for the lithe creature that had offered itself to him. They brought their kisses and caresses to Iylla, until all seven were close to one another and it was hard to tell whose hands touched whose body, and what belonged to whom. It hardly seemed to matter. Iylla gave of herself freely, sharing those more potent tricks that she alone had learned. It was easily done. They were hers, these fellow treeborn creatures, and she loved them all. Sensual contact of skin on skin filled her mind with memories of Silla and Vin. Those two were painfully close, it would take so little time to reach them and she longed to go. It should be Vin’s hard cock nuzzling at her thigh, Silla’s skilful mouth covering hers. She wanted their fingers opening her, their nipples under her tongue. It was good to be touched, to be close to other beings, but her heart sought something more and her body remembered the passions her first encounter inspired. Leon’s face entered her mind, and she wondered how he would look in a state of pleasure, his skin flushed and lips swollen from kisses. That more than anything else, she longed for. She had no idea who or what he was, but desire for him was growing within her, its roots deep in her heart. Her little group were tired and lacked the confidence to take their explorations far this time. She would settle them down, see to it that Light ate, and start planning their next course of action. Her mind rebelled: Iylla wanted to contemplate Leon, to imagine putting her tongue to his body and offering herself up to him. She had the feeling he would accept such an offer, if the chance ever came. However, Iylla had no idea where he had gone or if their paths would cross again.

**** To be solitary yet close to everything was Leon’s natural condition. Many cycles of the seasons might pass between incidents of his communing with other beings. Mostly he kept to the wild woodlands, away from other old spirits and forest powers. Leon listened to everything from the rustling voices of plants to the groans of mountains as 78

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they grew fractionally year by year. He knew the languages of all things but spoke seldom. It had always been this way for him, and he wondered why should he want anything else? Was there not companionship enough in the whispering of trees and the dancing streams? If he needed a language of expression and contemplation, he could visit the Drays. If he sought the immediacy of life, the forest teemed with it. The existence he had was not enough, and he could not deny that to himself. He wanted some spirit that spoke to his soul in shared language. He wanted Iylla, even though he did not know if she was such a creature. His life stirred her body, his will gifted her with spirit and made her whole. This creature might be the mirror of his heart and he longed for that as he had never longed in all his years of existence. He had not intended to seek her out. The forests of Estraguil were vast, hiding many secrets and possibilities. Chance alone would not have brought him to her in a hundred years. Intention drew him to her side that night. He found Dray’s latest fruitings, a little cluster of beings nestling together for warmth. Each one appeared uniquely strange and beautiful, sleeping in happy innocence. Close together they lay, looking warm and careless, with the innocence of new beings. He could love them all. Leon saw his Iylla, on her side, one arm stretched forth into the darkness. Moonlight through the branches lit her skin, making her seem less substantial somehow than when he had seen her by daylight. Leon felt his tangible form coalesce, making him certain and solid on the forest floor. His senses sharpened, increasing his awareness of everything around him. The ground was spongy from recent rains, and the night smelled of damp vegetation. Iylla’s chest rose and fell as she breathed, lifting and dropping her firm breasts. He had seen how the incomers covered their bodies with the pelts of others, but he did not like it. Better to see the true skin, so tempting to the fingers. He reached out to stroke her feathers, knowing this could not disturb her. So smooth, so soft. Eyes flickered beneath her closed lids and he wondered where her dreams carried her. A single raindrop fell from the trees, splashing lightly onto her cheek. Looking up, Leon saw that the leaves above shimmered with moisture, glinting magically in the moonlight. Iylla sighed in her sleep and rolled, moving closer to him as though some instinct told her that he was near by. Leon hoped it was so. The temptation to lie beside her and wrap his arms around her small body was forceful. He hesitated, knowing what Dray meant her for. He could not obstruct that. Perhaps he should stay and help her. Leon considered what such a choice would mean for him. If he meant to give his heart to this creature, how could he slip back into the forest and wait to see if she survived her trials? There was no explaining the apprehension he felt, and he did not know what it meant. 79

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She murmured in her sleep, and stretched out her hand, clasping her fingers around his with such certainty he was sure she must have woken. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing slow. She still dreamed then. Using his free hand, he glided fingers along the length of her form, from forehead down to curving hip. With one hand pinned, there was no reaching down to her small feet with their tough soles. He leaned close, able to smell the earthiness of her body, the sweat and other fragrances of living. He knew how mortal creatures coupled, the melding of flesh for the getting of offspring. Leon did not know if he could beget children in his image. He had never tried to make anything that way. Looking at Iylla inspired him with the desire to try. There was such strength in her, such raw physicality. Touching her stirred him into new levels of awareness and feeling. Leon made his choice. He rested the length of his body on the cold earth and kept Iylla’s hand in his. She would see him when she woke, and he would know from the look on her face whether she was pleased or not. Leon never slept. The land of dreams was open to him, but he walked it fully knowing, as himself. It was something he seldom did even thought the journey was easily made. Estraguil itself flourished on the borders of that realm. He understood this land to be the dream of countless trees, slumbering through long millennia. Where the dreams of dreams walked, he could not say for certain. There were so many borders here, so many lands and realms into which a traveller might stray. The fixed and rigid certainty of the physical lands beyond Estraguil unsettled Leon. Better the melting unpredictable wonders of this wildwood than anything so unyielding. He had glimpsed many harsh, unchanging places from afar, and that was more than enough for him. Instead of sleeping, Leon lay in the night, listening to the familiar sounds of the living, breathing forest. He felt no threat or danger here. The incomers were but a passing irritation, he decided. They could not truly harm this timeless land. Iylla dreamed of a forest, but not the one she knew. It was hard to be sure what the differences were, but she felt them with the uncanny certainty that only comes in sleep. They were hunting together for something, but she did not know what it was, only that it was vital to keep the being she loved safe during the long period of darkness. It would all begin with the dawning of the day, another inexplicable certainty. The most vivid details were of Leon, his hand beneath her arm making a pillow for her head. His body warm against hers, shielding her from the night. For a while she floated on the brink of sleeping, still clinging to the memories of their embrace as the growing light roused her. From the rough skin she felt against her hand, she knew Branch was close by. Someone else was at her back. Not Jewel, there was no fuzz of light hair against her skin. 80

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Light perhaps, or Air. Not Rain, she was shorter than that. Iylla leaned back, letting her shoulders rest on her companion’s chest. Fingers trailed over her hips, making her shiver out of the last fragments of dream, fully aware of the moment. Looking around she could see Light clearly, lying close to Branch. It had to be Air or Seed then, whose mouth pressed with such alluring softness against her shoulder. She stretched, leaning back and half wishing she was still in the arms of her dream, feeling Leon between her thighs, stirring with passion at her closeness. Thinking she could take a little longer to lie here and pretend, Iylla called each detail of the dream back into her thoughts, remembering how secure she felt then, how joyful. The hand on her hip was firm and confident. The lips that brushed the back of her neck seemed the perfect counterpart to that recollection. Hot desire coursed in her, making her squirm and press back into the male who lay behind her. An erection to match her need pressed against the small of her back. Iylla could have wept for frustration and want. Her companions were so sweet in their own way, but they lacked the confidence and knowledge she needed in a lover. They were not like Vin and Silla. Still, she needed to be touched. She could close her eyes and imagine she was somewhere else. Rolling onto her back, Iylla kept her eyes tight shut so that she could make the enchanted pretence last a little longer. Soft hair fell across her face as lips brushed hers with another light and lingering kiss. Oh but this was good. A hand closed over her breast and the mouth against hers opened fractionally inviting her into something deeper still. Her lips parted, welcoming in the moist warmth of another’s tongue as it brushed so smoothly over her own. She wanted this to be so much more and her body was taut with need. The kiss ended as tenderly as it had begun. A hand caressed her cheek. “Will you open your eyes for me?” the whisper asked. Iylla felt her stomach clench. She was still dreaming, she supposed. Opening her eyes, she gazed up into Leon’s handsome face. “You’re here,” she said, hardly able to believe it. “I am.” She caught the back of his head with her hand and pulled him down into another long kiss, clinging to him as though he might slip away at any moment. “For how long?” she asked breathless. Their two previous encounters had been so very brief that she dared no hope for more. “I mean to stay with you, if you want?” “I want.” Iylla went to kiss him again, but heard one of her companions stir and mutter. 81

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“Later,” she said reluctantly. There were things she needed to explore without interruption. It wasn’t entirely that Iylla wanted to keep Leon to herself, but she needed to be free to give her all to him, at least for a little while. That was as far ahead as she could reasonably think. “I had a strange dream,” Air said, shaking his arms and stretching his shoulders. “What did you dream?” Iylla asked him. She moved so that her body hid Leon’s arousal. She was not ready to share that either. “That we were hunted by something I could not see.” He paused, taking in Leon’s presence. “Who is this?” “Leon. He was there at your fruiting. Do you remember?” “Not clearly.” Air shrugged. “I dreamed I was trying to find something,” Rain said as she sat up, looking at their new arrival with unabashed interest. “I can’t remember what it was.” “I was hunting too,” Iylla admitted, “I was waiting to hunt.” “Do you remember dreaming Light?” Rain asked. “Not really.” “Nor me,” Seed added. “I dreamed,” Branch said. “I dreamed of the taste of smoke and the scrabbling of small feet.” “Forest dreams,” Leon said. “Dreams within dreams. They always signify something.” “What do you mean?” Iylla asked. “Everything is real,” Leon told them all, “especially the things that seem less so.” There was a long silence during which the small company digested these peculiar words. “What are we going to do about the incomers?” Seed asked. “I don’t know. It’s so exposed from what you’ve said, and there are a lot of them. I don’t know that we can do anything.” “There must be a way,” Rain pressed. “There has to be a way, we have to do this.” “Where do they get their water?” Leon asked. “There is a pool, a spring I think,” Iylla told him. “Then the easiest way to drive them off is to poison their water,” he responded. Silla and Vin’s faces appeared in Iylla’s thoughts, soon followed by Silla’s children, and the other people she had known in her short stay amongst them. “I can’t do it,” Iylla said. 82

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“What do you mean?” Rain replied, shades of anger in her voice. “I can’t kill them, and I don’t think we can drive them off,” Iylla replied. “It’s what we are meant to do,” Seed put in. “I understand,” Light said, “I’ve seen them. Some of them I didn’t like at all, but others were kind to me. I couldn’t kill them either.” “And there are a lot of them,” Jewel piped up. “You’re giving up!” Rain said, banging a small fist into the trunk of a nearby tree. “We have a charge, a duty. We have to do this for Dray.” “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t feel that duty too strongly. Yes, he made me, but he made me to be his tool. He made me to use me and I don’t think I owe him,” Iylla said. Iylla looked around at the circle of faces, seeing doubt, fear, agreement and anger in turn. Only Leon remained unreadable. “Are none of you going to do this?” Rain demanded. Her question was met with silence. “There just aren’t enough of us,” Jewel said. “Anyone?” Rain asked. No one answered her. “Then I’m going back to Dray. I’ll tell him what has happened here.” “Do what you think you must,” Iylla said, “You are free to choose.” “I’m for fighting, but there’s no point if we can’t win,” Air said. Seed nodded agreement. “Rain,” Leon said gently, “let me help you on your way. It will take you a long time otherwise.” “Thank you,” Rain said. Iylla watched fascinated as Leon hummed, his hands moving through the air in fluid patterns. She felt the air tremble about her, a though it fluttered with a thousand tiny wings. “Where is it?” Leon asked, but he seemed to be speaking to himself and not to those around him. His fingers pried into something Iylla could not see. Smoothly, he made an opening where before there had only been forest. “Step through,” he instructed Rain. “If you can keep thinking of your Dray, you will find him. Never leave the path, no matter what you might see.” Rain nodded and did as she was told. The rend closed behind her. “What was that?” Light asked 83

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“There are many paths in the forest, some more obvious than others. I can’t explain any better than that,” Leon replied. The scene left Iylla uncomfortable. “We’d best get away from here, and find a good place to hunt,” she said.

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Chapter Thirteen

It was late in the afternoon, and the wind had set in, buffeting the trees and causing everyone to shiver with the cold. Hail battered them for a time, and they sought shelter where they could, pressed against tree trunks, protecting eyes from the merciless shards of ice. Afterwards, the sun came out, faint and lacking warmth. It did little to ward off the chill. The forest was peculiarly quiet, and Iylla saw little scope for hunting. She pressed on, wanting to be away from the incomers, and the many temptations Silla and Vin posed. Light had been close to the duo Iylla desired, had touched them and spoken with them. Much as Iylla wanted that for herself, there were too many dangers. Removing herself further from them pained her, but she knew there was no reasonable alternative. “Look at this,” Seed called out from a little in front. They had seen plenty of bones before, both from their own kills, and other causes. These suggested an especially large creature, with broad shoulders and a heavy skull. It was obviously a fresh kill as the bones themselves had not weathered and were still ordered such that the form of the beast was discernable. Iylla saw Seed bend to touch the skull, then withdraw his hand as though alarmed. “What is it?” she called. “The bones are warm.” They stood around the fallen beast, each testing the truth of this. The bones were peculiarly heated – unnaturally so. There was nothing to suggest a fire, although the plants beneath the remains were scorched. “What does this mean?” Iylla asked. “I don’t know,” Leon said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t have any idea what could have caused this.” He stood, looking about him as though searching for clues. “We must be careful,” he said. “I have seen the work of the fire breathers, and I do not believe it is their doing. There may be something new in the forest.”

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Leon’s words set them all on edge, and they continued in wary silence, peering intently at the surrounding trees and undergrowth. The discovery jarred Iylla from her introspection and from then onwards, she kept watchful eyes on her surroundings. Jewel leapt back, a cry of warning escaping her lips as she stumbled into a tangle of climbing plants. Iylla saw the air before her filled with small, falling things, some of which landed on the ground. Air and Seed were hastily picking off the dozens of the tiny lizards covering them. One bit Iylla’s leg and she pulled it off with her claws, killing it in the process. Pushing past Jewel, she went to help Seed. Air was further in front and, as the animal track they had been following was narrow, reaching him would be difficult. Her claws made it easier, enabling her to get a grip on the wriggling forms and to quickly kill them, stopping them from simply climbing back on. She heard Air cry out, and saw him fall. Jewel pushed passed her with Leon close behind. Everything happened so quickly that she hardly knew what was going on. There was an awful cry, long and pained. Something dreadful was happening, but Iylla did not look up or cease her efforts to free Seed from the lizards that smothered him. There were plenty of them on her own body, and keeping up with those as well was difficult. The others either pushed passed, or crowded in to help. Hands pulled the ferocious little creatures from her arms and legs as she worked. “Kill them,” she shouted, “they just climb back on otherwise.” She could hear Seed whimpering with pain and fear. No matter how fast her hands worked, it did not seem to be fast enough. There was a smell rising, one it took a moment to place. Then she remembered the way Silla’s people charred flesh before eating it. Bile rose to her mouth. Seed writhed, making it harder to pull the lizards off him. Iylla could hear someone crying, then Seed fell still, and that was worse than anything that had gone before. Frenzy overcame her, and she worked like a maniac, ripping lizards from her comrade’s flesh and crushing the life from the small but deadly forms. Hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her back. Iylla fought to keep her place, her eyes blurred with tears so that she could barely see what she did. “Stop!” The voice was Leon’s and the command simple enough to touch her even though she was half crazed by what had happened. Gradually Iylla calmed and grew still, held by his firm grip. Her hands were bleeding and Light was pulling lizards from her arms. She had not noticed them, even though their bites made her skin burn fiercely. Before her, Seed was deathly still, his body a shining, writhing mass of lizard scales. A little way beyond him, Air lay stretched on the ground, equally obscured and motionless. Branch 86

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was working to pull the lizards from him, while Jewel did the same for Seed. The stench of smouldering flesh filled the air, making Iylla retch and shake. As soon as she was free of her attackers, Leon let her go. Iylla returned to Seed’s side, joining Branch’s efforts to destroy the horde of lizards. As she pulled the brightly coloured creatures off, Iylla could see Seed’s skin, frighteningly altered by the onslaught. As his body was slowly revealed, his resemblance to cooked meat grew more apparent. Neither Air nor Seed showed any signs of life. Iylla shook Seed with all the force she possessed, trying to shout him into wakefulness at the same time. His skin felt peculiar under her hands, and when she pulled away, some of it stuck to her. She screamed. For a few moments, Iylla vented her grief and pain, her high, keening voice carried through the trees. She pushed her hands deep into the leaf-litter, needing to free herself from the tattered rags of Seed’s ruined skin. There were dead lizards under her hands as well, and she pushed them away, sickened. This is no time to cry she realised. There were five of them still living, but far from safe. Now was not the time for weakness. Iylla hauled herself to her feet and forced herself to look around at the scene of devastation. The forest floor around her was littered with countless lizard-corpses, but she did not think they had accounted for all of them. Those that escaped could strike again at any moment. They had partially eaten Air, exposing the bones on his ribs. It was a horrible sight, but she forced herself to look and understand what had happened There was nothing more that could be done for the dead, but Iylla could not bring herself to leave them lying where they had fallen. “What should we do?” she asked. “What can we do?” Branch questioned back. The looked at each in turn, seeing their grief and fear mirror her own. Not even Leon seemed to have any answers. Only a little while before he had seemed to be such a strong and certain presence who could guard her. There were things even he could not explain or overcome. “I want to cover them over,” she said. It did not seem sensible to stay in the place they had been attacked, but nonetheless they all set to with a will, gathering armfuls of leaf-litter and fresh plant matter, hiding the bodies of their fallen friends.

**** That morning there had been seven of them, now only four remained of Dray’s fruiting. Jewel walked in front, and they watched her intently. Some instinct had protected her from the first assault, and Iylla wondered if it could do so again now they 87

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were on their guard. No-one had any appetite for hunting, and each noise seemed unsettling. The forest no longer seemed like the friendly home it had once been. “What happens to them?” Iylla asked in hushed tones. “How do you mean?” Leon replied. “Is that the end of everything they are?” “I don’t think so. I have not seen the land of the dead, but I have heard tell there are places where spirits walk.” “Spirits?” Light asked, overhearing them. “The essential part of any living thing. The part that is not flesh and blood.” The idea gave Iylla a glimmer of hope where before there had been none.

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Chapter Fourteen

The sacred fire welcomed Arn’s body, licking away with flames all traces of the man he had been. Silla watched the scene in grim silence. The air was tense with divided feeling, and only respect for the dead kept her people from angry dispute. Studying the faces of family, friends, and comrades of many years, Silla tried to gauge who of her people would take which side. There was a loyal clique around Quin, consisting largely of those families who had traditionally provided athro's to the clan. Beyond that, it was hard to tell. Silla was certain of her family, but with regard to the wider community she remained uncertain. Her ability to read the moods and inclinations of the company was one of the things that had made her a good leader in the past. Now she was struggling, and wondered if she should indeed step back and let someone else take command. The only trouble was, that aside from Quin, who was there? She doubted Quin’s sanity and could not surrender her people into the hands of a woman who increasingly looked dangerous and out of control. Vin clenched her hand, his fingers engulfing hers. He always knew when she needed him most, and his strong, wordless support was precious beyond reckoning. Whatever else happened, Silla was certain of the man at her side. She leaned against him, feeling the strength in his body, and the warmth of his skin. Arn’s death was now the greatest issue before them, such that Iylla’s appearance and escape had been wiped from most minds by the unnatural birth and horrible death that followed. How anyone could see Quin’s monstrous offspring as holy was beyond Silla, especially with Arn’s corpse burning before them. Some of them were calling him a martyr, others saying he must have been tainted in some way for the Blessed Sun’s creatures to destroy him. There were plenty of others who shared her disquiet, and many more who said nothing at all. Silla thought the man had probably just been unlucky, the person closest when the farrins came. Quin had seen fit to name the horror she had mothered, and no one was going to challenge her in that regard. The body began to burn in earnest, as the dead man’s spiked hair caught light. The smell was horrible, but Silla did not move or even avert her eyes. It was her duty to see his remains consumed by the sacred fire, to watch over this last right as the man’s 89

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soul was freed to join with the Blessed Sun. It was not an easy thing to watch even though Arn was not a man she had ever been close to. He was a quiet, unremarkable individual in life, one of three brothers, with children of his own who were close to adulthood, and several women who had birthed them. In the years before the wars, he had been a farmer. Silla knew enough to mourn his death, to regret the waste of life and the horror of his demise. Arn’s eldest child, a young man called Flin stepped forwards to begin speaking. They would all offer their thoughts, memories and feelings as the corpse burned. It was one of the few traditions they had maintained from their old way of life. “There are no heroic tales to tell of my father,” Flin began. “He worked the soil in his early years. When war came, he learned to fight. When famine struck, he worked hard to keep his family alive. He was a quiet man, but a man of true courage. He lived well, and died needlessly. I am proud of our blood tie, and I honour him. May he go in peace.” Silla nodded agreement. These declarations would give her good opportunity to measure the collective mood. She had seen a few people flinch at the suggestion Arn’s death was needless. Moran stepped forwards, a stout woman a few years Silla’s senior. Her face was heavily marked by weeping and her shoulders slumped. “Arn was a good man,” she said simply. “I don’t have words for how much I will miss him.” Tears shook her broad form, and Silla felt her eyes sting with sympathy. She shivered, feeling suddenly chill despite the heat of the fire. Others moved forward to speak, friends, lovers and relatives, each offering their grief and memories as what remained of the dead man was consumed by the flames. Looking around, Silla saw she was not the only one shivering. A cold wind blew across them, although it did not seem to stir the flames. At one moment, there was nothing but the pyre and the space surrounding it. Then out of nowhere came a shadowy figure, materialising out of the air to stand before those who had spoken first. The mere sight of this apparition was enough to set Silla’s knees shaking, and a cold sweat erupted over her body. People did not appear out of thin air, she knew this, yet her eyes told her otherwise. Vin drew a protective arm around her, and Silla drew her youngest child close. All around her she saw that instinctive response echoed as people reached for their loved ones, seeking life to ward off this vision of death. There was no mistaking it, for while Arn’s body burned on the fire, a pale and shimmering likeness of him stood before his family. “You have called me back,” his voice was barely above a whisper, but in the stunned silence, it carried easily to every ear. No one dared to answer. 90

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“Why do you summon me back to this life?” the spirit howled. “Why do you pull me from my journey?” “Has the Blessed Sun sent you back to us with some message?” Quin cried out, her face radiant with inspiration. The ghost of Arn turned upon her, silent and wrathful. Under his baleful stare, she at last stepped back, cowed. The pale figure turned. “Moran, you summoned me back.” Moran trembled, tears cascading down her cheeks. She opened her arms to the shade of her dead lover, but he did not move closer. “Why?” he asked again. “I did not mean to, but I cannot bear to lose you,” she said. “Either you must go, or I must stay,” Arn told her. The air seemed to grow frosty at his words. Two of Moran’s children clung to her legs, weeping and screaming out their protests. Silla watched intently, trying to understand what was happening. She had never heard of a dead man’s spirit returning, they all went to the God and there was nothing more to be said of it. Why then was Arn amongst them? What did it mean? She raised her eyes, glaring a challenge at Quin. Across the fire, the athro stood still and confused, her face uncertain. Silla felt a moment of triumph knowing the other woman had no insight either. Then the dread settled in, as her thoughts returned to the pitiful, terrified weeping of Moran’s children and the very real threat Arn’s ghost presented. If Quin could not deal with this, she must find some solution herself. Giving Vin’s hand one final squeeze, and pressing Trian into his arms, Silla pushed her way forwards until she shared that small area around the fire with their ghostly visitor. “Why are you here?” she demanded of the spirit. He turned to face her, looking much as he had in the last moments of life His face was fearfully ravaged and his expression dark with pain and bitter anger. The sight of him filled her with fear, but Silla was determined to send the spirit on its way. “Moran summoned me.” Silla thought frantically, trying to remember exactly who had said what. “She spoke your name. Is that what brought you back?” “Yes.” “How do we free you to go upon your way?” Her hands were shaking, but Silla forced herself to stand firm and tall, masking her instinctive terror. “She must come with me.” 91

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The sound of his dead voice made Silla’s skin crawl. “What if I refuse to let her go?” she challenged. “Then I must stay at her side until she chooses to go with me.” Silla risked a glance at Moran. The woman was broken by grief and would not fight to defend herself. However, there were her children to think of, and Silla was not about to see them orphaned. “Quin,” she challenged, “call to the Blessed Sun to take this spirit in his care.” Quin stepped forward, with no choice but to try and accept the challenge. Silla went to Moran, pulling her away from the ghost and trying to get the woman to focus on her frightened children rather than the shade that sought to claim her. She heard Quin’s voice rise in prayer, and the hum of others taking up her chanted refrains. If that did not suffice, Silla did not know what might be required. She would not surrender this woman into death, of that she was certain. She held Moran close, stroking her back and intermittently reaching for the two terrified youngsters who pressed against her legs. A round of spontaneous cheers told her that Quin’s work was successful. Seeing Moran’s sister close by, Silla relieved herself of her weeping charge and stepped once more into the space beside the fire. The shade of Arn was gone, and with it the unnatural chill. “The Blessed Sun watches over us,” Quin cried out triumphantly. This success would strengthen her hand, and Silla knew she must act quickly. “Hear me,” she shouted. She had to repeat herself several times before the crowd fell quiet. “Hear me. In this place we cannot name our dead. I do not know why it is different here, but we should take no chances. If we lose those we love, be they friends, family, or lovers, we must not speak of them directly, ever. We should not speak of those who died before we came here. The shade of our friend almost claimed Moran for this mistake, and we must be vigilant against it.” Silla was shocked by how close she had come to naming Arn herself during her brief speech. This taboo against naming would be a hard discipline to maintain, she realised, but it was clearly a necessary one. “In this at least, Silla is right. We must not name the dead.” Silla turned to look at Quin and realised that her one-time friend did indeed mean to challenge her for command of their small clan.

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Chapter Fifteen

By nightfall, the strain of constant fear and vigilance was telling in all of them. Iylla hurried them blindly onwards, keeping to the cover of trees for fear of attacks from above. Leon’s efforts to slow or calm her had little effect. When Light stumbled and fell, they halted, and Leon saw the full scale of the damage wreaked by the day’s horrors. “You cannot run forever,” he said. “We must find some safe place,” Iylla said, still short of breath from running. There was a long, hard silence. “Where could be safe from such things?” Jewel asked, shivering. “I don’t know!” Anger and near hysteria blended in Iylla’s voice. She turned on Leon suddenly, her golden eyes flashing. “Where did you send Rain? Would we be safe there?” “You might for a time, but its no place for sleeping” She was too tired to ask him why not. “I do not need to sleep. I can watch over you,” Leon offered. Iylla looked around, assessing the place in which they stood. It was no better or worse than any other. Her companions were tired, hungry and as fearful as she. Sinking down onto the rough grasses, she wondered why everyone was expecting her to decide what to do. There were small flowers in the tangled plant-life – little yellow faces so tiny she had not really seen them before. Her exhausted mind latched onto these pinpoints of colour, unable to deal with anything more urgent. “I’m hungry,” Jewel said, her voice plaintive. “I’m too tired to hunt or forage,” Iylla replied. “I told you we should have stopped sooner.” Branch sounded raw and worn. Iylla buried her head in her hands. She had no answers and no will left to find them. “There are some toadstools over here,” Light said. “Perhaps we could eat those?” “What are they like?” Jewel asked. “Big, flat, round and brown. There are quite a lot of them.” 93

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It took all the energy Iylla could muster simply to pull her head back and look. She couldn’t recall seeing anything like these before, and did not know if they might be safe. Her stomach growled, and she stopped caring. Light put a wide brown circle of toadstool-head in her lap, and Iylla pulled a piece from it. The flesh was firm and broke readily under her fingers. It tasted good, and she swallowed hurriedly, reaching for more. Soon they were all quietly eating and for a while she forgot all about predatory lizards and dead comrades. As her belly began to fill, she looked round at Leon and saw he alone was not eating. “Do you want some?” she asked. He shook his head. “I don’t eat.” Everything ate one way or another, as far as Iylla could tell. Even the trees, with their roots in the ground needed water. “What are you?” she asked, finding herself uncomfortable in face of his otherness. “I don’t know how to answer that.” His reply did nothing to ease her unsettled feelings. She looked away from him. “What shall we call them?” Branch asked. The game of naming things was a new one, started while Jewel and Light explored the Sillian camp some days previously. “Brown something’s,” Jewel said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, and picking toadstool crumbs from her fur. “Brown…” Light tried, “Brown skins?” “That could be a lot of things,” Branch pointed out. “Brown tops?” Iylla offered. She felt merry all of a sudden, and slightly giddy. Names passed back and forth between them. “Brown Steev,” Branch suggested, and there were no further arguments. For the first time in a long while, everything seemed pleasant and easy. For Iylla, this unexpected reprieve was like nestling with Silla and Vin, in those few precious moments before those happy illusions had been shattered by fire. Jewel rolled in the grass, and came up covered in flower petals. Iylla started to laugh, and could not stop. She rolled on the ground, sides aching and eyes watering. Above her the moon was rising, but she couldn’t tell which one it was. Her vision blurred, but she could still hear her own manic giggles. In the morning, her head ached and her stomach felt peculiar. She woke damp from a light fall of rain that had not disturbed her groggy slumber. Something itched her leg, and she turned in panic, to find nothing more sinister than a fallen leaf brushing her 94

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skin. The shock forced her awake, making her notice the dryness of her mouth and the sluggish feeling in her limbs. Iylla gathered droplets of water on her palms, smearing her hands over the vegetation until they were damp, then licking off what she could It barely slaked her thirst, but was better than nothing. The others were close by. Light, Branch and Jewel had curled up together only an arm’s reach away. Leon was sat with his back to a tree, watching her. As she glanced up, he turned away. He had been a dream for so long that she wasn’t sure what to do with the reality of him. He was not like her, and she did not understand him. The sight of him made her yearn to move closer, to taste his lips and explore his body. Something about him made her hesitate and in that moment Iylla realised she feared him. Seeking uncomplicated affection, she rolled closer to her comrades, glad of their warmth and the easy comfort of being close to them. What sort of being was Leon if he neither ate nor slept? Watching from half closed eyes, she was struck afresh by his sensual looks. His dark eyes drew her attention, the sight of his mouth made her lick her own lips furtively. Leon turned her way, but she did not know how to read the expression on his face. He seemed impossibly distant and unobtainable. Jewel’s hair was soft beneath her hands and Iylla pressed against it, shedding silent tears. In her brief life there had been so many losses already. It seemed that she could keep nothing for long, that each good thing was stolen away before she had time to truly appreciate it. How long would it be before these three beside her lay dead? How long before Leon drifted off to wherever he had come from? Iylla feared the fate she imagined. “I thought to find you with them.” Dray’s voice was unmistakable, and Iylla shuddered at the sound of it. She had not forgotten her imprisonment and did not trust her maker. Pressing tighter against Jewel’s back, she tried to close her ears against the conversation, but to little avail. “Rain has told me everything. I will remove Iylla, she is clearly an obstruction, these others will continue my plan,” Dray said. “You give them no choice in the matter” “What choice do they have? You are sentimental. Take Iylla if you want. She is of no use to me.” “Look at them,” Leon said. There was a period of silence during which Iylla shuddered at the feeling of being watched. Her future was under discussion, but she was too grieved to think properly. “Where are the other two?” Dray asked. “Dead.” 95

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“How?” “We were attacked by tiny lizards. I think their bite was poisonous. The absent two were both killed.” “There is nothing in the forest that could do such a thing!” Dray exclaimed. “I think you’ll find there is, now.” After another tormenting pause, Dray spoke again. “What did you do with the bodies?” “We covered them over.” Dray snorted, and Iylla thought he sounded angry. “Where?” She supposed Leon gestured an answer, because he did not speak. “I must retrieve them. It seems I must also teach them not to bury their dead. Who suggested it?” “Iylla.” Leon said her name slowly. “I should never have let you breathe life into her. She is nothing but trouble. Why didn’t you stop her?” “She was upset, and why would I?” “You know what they are,” Dray said, “what they could be.” “Would that be a problem?” “In the open forest? Of course it would.” Iylla wondered what they were talking about. It sounded terribly important, but made no sense to her at all. “So what of these lizards then, what do you think?” Leon pressed. “There is one who may have made them, but she is seldom inclined to help us.” “She might speak to me,” Leon said. “But they might not be of her making. The winged ones were not, as far as I can tell.” “You could take Iylla to her,” Dray said. Iylla did not like the tone of his voice. “I will need something else.” “If you must, I can spare you one of these.” “I would rather not, but suppose there is little choice,” Leon said. “Why not? I can spare one and they are not overly endowed with thought.” Iylla was so perplexed by this that she raised her head to see what they were talking about. Milling about in the trees were dozens of creatures. Some resembled herself, others the companions who lay at her side. One stepped forward, enabling her to see small, curling horns and a face that could have been Seed’s. Shocked by this, she 96

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could not tear her eyes from him. Another appeared at his shoulder, one with a mercifully unfamiliar face. “Iylla!” Dray’s commanding tones made her stand before she had time to think. “I am giving you to Leon. You will leave with him.” She could not find the words to protest. Looking down, she cast one, final desperate look at her three sleeping friends. “Take which ever one you want from the rest,” Dray added. Iylla could see Leon was not comfortable with this. He selected one of the new ones, who bore no resemblance to her friends. “I would be grateful if you could find out where these lizards come from. They will unbalance things.” “I will do what I can, but do not think of this as a favour to you,” Leon replied. “Go,” Dray instructed, barely looking at her. Iylla wanted to be as far from him as possible, but leaving the others without so much as a word distressed her. She hesitated. “Now!” She went to Leon, her head lowered so that she did not have to look at those she was leaving, or their strange echoes in the trees. Leon led her away from the others. A male with hairy legs and dark skin followed silently at her heels. “What’s happening?” she asked Leon. “Dray wants to be rid of you, and I am going to see what I can learn about the lizards.” Iylla shivered involuntarily. “How?” “We will go to see one of the other forest powers. She may tell me, I do not know. I have not spoken with her in a long while.” “What about the others?” “Dray means to drive off the incomers.” Much of the conversation she had heard began to make sense. Dray seemed to know what she had done, from Rain no doubt. He probably understood she would not help him harm Silla’s people. Iylla did not want to think about what would happen in her absence, or what Dray would force the others to do. “I am sorry you were given no choice,” Leon said. Iylla made no answer to this. “If you do not wish to go with me, then say,” he pressed. “I would rather go with you than be alone. I’m not happy about leaving the others.” 97

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“I don’t think there is anything we can do for them now,” Leon admitted. “There will be bloodshed before this is over.”

**** Dray gathered together the four who had survived their time in the forest. They looked worn, with their faces and demeanours altered by many days of living wild in Estraguil. It would be easy to tell them apart from those he had grown in their image. This surprised him. “Where are Iylla and Leon?” Light asked him. “Gone, performing a small task for me.” They eyed him warily and he saw his first creature’s mistrust echoed in their faces. She had managed to cause a great deal of harm in very little time. He regretted releasing her from the tree. “I have work for you to do,” he said. “You want the incomers driven out,” Jewel said. “Yes I do. They ravage the forest and threaten its harmony. I want them gone.” “I suppose these others are here for the same reason?” Branch asked, looking around at the newcomers. “Yes. There were not enough of you before, but now there are,” Dray stated. “You will drive them out by whatever means you can. Any means except fire.” “And then?” Light asked. Dray shrugged, the question did not interest him. “Are you coming with us?” Rain asked, her voice husky. Dray considered the creature in detail: Her large eyes and hopeful expression amused him. All the while when he had been gathering information from her, she had sought opportunities to touch him and move closer. Dray understood the mechanisms of reproduction, although they held little allure for him. The creature he had made seemed intent on offering up her body, despite his lack of interest. “No,” he said, “I will not be going with you. I do not like to be abroad in the forest for too long. Movement does not agree with me. I may return to check on your progress however.” He looked into each of their eyes in turn, seeing the complexity each had gained in what to him felt like a very short time indeed. Still, they were his creatures and his power to compel them still held sway. They would go back the way they had come, to face the tree fellers and end the harming of the forest. His creatures had grown reluctant, but he had no idea why. He pointed them towards their quarry, and told them to be on their way. The more recent fruitings fell in behind them, quiet and docile. As they moved, 98

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he realised just how gaunt and worn his older creations looked. The new creatures appeared soft and innocent by comparison. Dray experienced a moment of doubt, wondering if these youthful things could prevail against the destructive foreigners. He could think of no other solutions to this threat. If they failed, he could make more, and there were others who would help him. Sheer numbers must surely prevail in the end. Once he was alone, Dray set off in search of the dead. He could not chance leaving their bodies unprotected in the forest. He was not entirely sure what would become of them. He had dreamed creatures into being before, fruited them and sent them on their way. These latest manifestations of his will were different from all that had gone before. He had bestowed many complex gifts upon them and he did not know what the consequences might prove to be. There were however, certain risks he did not feel inclined to take, and so the dead must be reclaimed.

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Chapter Sixteen

“We can go a short way on the dark roads,” Leon said, “but we will have to walk the last distance or she will be offended.” Iylla watched him as he moved away, knowing she was supposed to follow. She was tired of being told what to do, of being denied critical information and left powerless. It was tempting to just refuse him, to wander into the forest and make her own life, but what would she do then? Isolation did not suit her. Perhaps she could go to Silla’s people and warn them. She turned and looked over her shoulder. The persistent ache that had told her where to find them was gone, and she had nothing to help her orientate herself. All she saw was the creature who lurked in her shadow, nervous and silent, tracking her move with small, determined eyes. “Why?” she asked. “To see what we can learn about those lizards that killed your friends.” Iylla shrugged. “Creatures kill things. I know that. They died and nothing will bring them back. I want to learn how to protect myself from them. Can your friend teach me that?” “I don’t know.” “Why are you doing this?” she challenged. “You wouldn’t understand.” Anger pulsed through her and she sprang at him, catching him off guard and tumbling them both to the ground. Sitting on his chest, she thought he looked surprised. This felt better. “Try me.” “Curiosity. A reason to see one I have not spoken to in a long while. A desire to see what she will make of you.” “Why did you want someone else along?” “In case I need an extra pair of hands for something.” “Why should I go with you? Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?” “I had hoped you might choose my company, but if you do not then perhaps you should go. Think of this though. Your forest home is not safe, and if no one undertakes to 100

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protect it, this place may be destroyed. I may not agree with Dray’s methods, but he is right in trying to defend this land.” “Did he make it all?” Iylla ventured, suddenly sensing the possibility of a bigger picture. “He made some of it. The Drays were amongst the first things in the land, and they dreamed much of the forest into being.” “Where did the Drays come from?” “I do not know. If I was there, I cannot remember.” Iylla stared down at his face. He looked more like her people, like Silla’s people, than not. Leon looked real and present, but his words suggested age on a scale she could not imagine. She touched her hand to his brow, feeling how smooth his skin was, and noting that there was little warmth in his body. “What are you?” she asked. The smile he gave her was wistful. Her backside dropped down hard onto the ground. Where before, there had been a man between her thighs, now only leaves and twigs touched her. Turning her head from side to side, she sought him, but there was no sign at all to indicate where Leon had gone. Her heart raced, and sweat pooled in the crooks of her arms. A cold breeze swept across her skin, making her tremble. She felt it brush over her, circling her body. Without warning, the breathy chill became firm hands, and a body that pressed against her back. Iylla gasped at his touch. “I don’t know how to explain,” he said, his mouth against her ear. “I am air just as Dray is wood.” “But you do not feel like air to me,” she protested. “I can be solid, if I choose. Estraguil is a place of dreaming, where what you want to be and what you dare to imagine has power beyond more mundane forces. Few have the courage for it.” She remained silent, going over his words and considering their significance. “If you come with me, I will teach you what I can. I am not seeking to own or keep you. I do not want to rule you, only help,” he offered. “I am tired of being ordered. I do not want to be instructed by Dray.” “Then let me help you.” Iylla pulled away from him and turned so that she could look him in the face. “Which one is true, this form, or the other?” “Both and neither.” “That’s no answer, Leon.” “I know.” 101

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She sighed deeply. “I will go with you,” she said. Leon cupped her face between his hands and covered her mouth with his. Iylla felt a rush of heat through her body, and an urgent desire rise up that had recently been muted by fear and hunger. At his touch, she returned to life, conscious of suppressed needs and aches. Then her hands were on his shoulders, and she was pressed tight against his chest, feeling the solidity of him and wondering how he could also be a creature of air when he felt so real. Leon breathed into her mouth, making her tingle. His lips brushed her fluttering eyelids, skimmed her ears and caressed her flesh. She felt his soft exhalations on her skin, quickening her. His every breath was sustenance and insight to her. “I can feel the heat in you,” he said. His words fuelled her desire. She wanted to pull him down into her, to see if he could truly be a man in answer to her needs. Her eyes flickered open and she caught sight of their silent companion, stood still as he watched in frank amazement. Other memories pressed in, of ruined flesh and lovers lost. “I want you,” she said. This confirmation of desire heightened its power but speaking reminded her of her circumstances. “I want you, and soon, but not now.” He nodded in resignation. “We have things to do.” “We have a forest to save and protect and good friends who need us both. If we fail there will be even more death,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips. “I cannot promise we will manage,” he said. “I have the courage to dream,” Iylla told him.

**** By nightfall they were close enough to be able to smell the camp fires. Light watched the silent horde who followed the older foursome, and saw a reflection of how she had been before Iylla taught her to stop and think. There were so many of them, none of them distinctive enough. It troubled her that some of them resembled Seed and Air. Each time she glimpsed one of those too familiar faces, her heart gave a lurch. It seemed impossible that she would ever become used to them. Rain was silent and distant. Light was starting to understand what that meant. These were the expressions of a being who longed for what she could not have. Light knew enough to suspect the object of this yearning was Dray himself, although she could not imagine why. The being that had driven them out here to slaughter if needs be, was not one who stirred any warm feelings in Light’s heart. Light did however know what it 102

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meant to hanker after someone who remained oblivious. Branch had been slow to join in their play and mutual exploration. He appeared to welcome closeness, but showed no signs of wanting more. It was frustrating in the extreme, because inclination drew Light to Branch’s slow and thoughtful ways. There had been no further sign of the lizards, for which Light was grateful indeed. The day had been a hard one none the less. They had paused to drink, and had snatched handfuls of berries, but this was hardly enough. Light was weary, and knew food was an urgent requirement. To satisfy the growls of a nagging stomach, Light plucked leaves from the trees. Most were bitter and chewy, but could be consumed and brought some relief. Jewel was doing the same thing, and they exchanged sympathetic looks. In some ways it felt better to be engaged once more on the task for which Dray had created them. Still Light remembered that brief taste of freedom and the feeling that life was theirs to fashion. When this was done, it would be worth trying to reclaim that sensation of liberty, if they survived. Death wasn’t something Light especially wanted to think about. In the gloom Light stumbled over Branch’s legs, and almost fell. He was very still, and on crawling closer to him, Light found that his hands were buried deep in the soil. He was breathing, but otherwise motionless. Forcing aching fingers into action, Light found his shoulders and chest. Without asking, Light leaned against him. All around them, the forest was alive with sounds as the numerous creatures Dray had sent here sought places to rest. The more Light saw of them, the more disturbing they seemed. Most wore familiar faces, but without the signs of character and intelligence that marked the original beings. Put Branch amongst a dozen who resembled him, and Light was sure anyone could identify him at a glance. The others lacked the true spark of life. They moved, spoke, and seemed real enough, but there was something missing from them. “What will happen to us tomorrow, do you think?” Branch asked. His low and husky voice startled Light, who had thought he slept. “I don’t know. I would rather not think about it.” “Are you afraid?” “A little. I wish Iylla was here. I worry about her.” “Do you think Dray lied to us?” Branch asked. “I have wondered that. I hope Leon is with her. I hope she isn’t alone.” “We’ve never been alone.” “We may never be,” Light observed. That was another thing it seemed better not want to contemplate. Light stroked Branch’s chest, wondering how much to say and whether such a chance would ever present itself again. 103

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During the first fumbling attempts at exploring each other’s bodies, Light turned out to possess considerable differences of anatomy from the others. They either had a cock, or a moist slit, but Light appeared to have both. As far as Light could tell, one or other part remained less obvious, depending on the inclinations of the observer. Light would be what they wanted to see, but was in truth neither male nor female. Did that means being a her, or a him? There was no term for this in between state. While they ran with Dray’s multitude, Light wondered if there were those amongst them who shared these secrets, who’s faces were not their own and whose bodies were a complex blend of gender. There had not been any opportunity to find out. If any of them lived, perhaps the chance would come. Light was not sure if it would be good to be unique or not. “A few nights ago,” Light ventured, “when I came back from the incomers, what did you think?” “What about?” Branch asked. “When we were all touching each other.” “It seemed pleasant.” Light put an arm about his waist and turned towards him. It was totally dark now, and Light could see nothing whatsoever. Moving cautiously, Light sought his lips, pressing a timid kiss to them. He was very still, which inspired the concern that he would say no to these advances. “Anything could happen tomorrow,” Light said. “Do you want me to touch you?” Branch asked. His words made Light tremble with anticipation. “Yes.” Branch was not as disinterested as Light had first thought. His hands explored the androgyne body of his companion, pressing against the faint suggestion of breasts. Light sighed deeply with satisfaction. Branch was the tallest and broadest of their company, his skin rough and lined, like bark to the touch. He had the sturdiness of a tree, the solid certainty of wood. Light liked that, it was so different from her own flitting, insubstantial nature and the differences between them were intriguing. His kisses fell heavily upon sensitive flesh as Light traced the contours of his body, feeling the hard strength of his chest. They were pressed close now, skin rubbing over skin, tongues intertwining. His broad hand covered Light’s stomach, the uneven surface of his skin chaffing slightly against the smaller being’s smoother flesh. Light liked this way of being touched, this almost abrasive contact and squirmed encouragingly, trying to get more from him. Branch’s palms brushed Light’s legs, igniting every nerve ending. Light shifted slightly, allowing him to explore legs and 104

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thighs with ease. Rough fingers teased at Light’s skin, searing the senses so that Light pulsed with desire. Light’s tongue licked at his lips, tasting the earthiness of him. Where true females were blessed with a small, responsive clitoris, Light had a cock comparable to any males. Fingers twined around it, pulling the rod into shuddering response, then slid along Light’s slit until she bit her lip with need. “You have both,” Branch said, sounding surprised. “I know.” “I’ve looked at you often enough, and never seen it before.” “People see what they want to. That was Dray’s gift to me.” Light paused, nervous. The slow questing of his fingers, exploring the mystery of that complex sex, gave Light hope. “Do you like how I am?” “Very much so.” Branch turned Light in his lap, so that his chest was pressed to his lover’s back and Light’s legs spread widely. With one hand he gripped the firm erection of Light’s masculine part, whilst the other hand probed the dripping feminine aspect behind it. Light leaned back, head was resting on Branch’s shoulder, body trembling with arousal as his long fingers did their work. “Do you like that?” he asked, pressing a finger into her yielding depths. “Yes,” Light gasped. “What about this?” He turned his attention to her cock, and she shuddered with the pleasure of it. “Can I do anything for you?” Light managed to say. “Just let me touch you. I want to understand your body.” This surprised Light, who had not appreciated Branch found her interesting. One set of fingers pushed deep into Light, finding sources of pleasure that brought forth panting and groans in turn. With the other hand, Branch gently stroked back and forth along the length of Light’s modest erection. The two stimulations combined was pure delight. With eyes closed, Light, rode the sensations and marvelled at the feelings this body could experience. Their first communal foray into pleasure had caught Light’s imagination, but neither had ventured so far into sensation before. Light stiffened and shuddered, a hot gush of liquid drenching them both with the first orgasm. Branch became still. “Did I hurt you?” he asked nervously. “No,” Light said, breathless and quivering, “that was so good. Oh Branch, let me do this for you!” 105

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He released Light, who turned, body flat against the cool ground and lips seeking him out. Light had seen him partially aroused before, but now found he was rock hard and already moist with fluids. Light explored him with an eager tongue; his cock was far bigger now that it was engorged. It tasted sharp, but Light liked that. It filled Light’s mouth, stretching lips fully, but this too was good. Thinking about Iylla’s words on the subject of pleasure, Light wondered if it would be possible to take this stiffened member of his inside, following the path his fingers had blazed. A warm pulse rocked through Light at the thought of it. Licking thoroughly around Branch’s swollen head, Light found a layer of skin there that would move back, exposing the most sensitive part beneath. It was his turn to groan and shift. Some places, Light soon learned, were more responsive than others. Branch’s breathing grew heavy and laboured, his hands cupped her head, encouraging her. Light wondered how this felt for him, if it was the same as it had been when their roles were reversed. Light hoped this congress of the mouth was bringing him pleasure akin to that which he had wrought. It was not easy to tell how Branch was feeling, but Light hoped he was melting in his own heat and shuddering ever closer to some glorious explosion of his own. Light could hear surprise in his soft ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’. All of a sudden, he went rigid and Light heard the sharp intake of his breath. His release flooded Light’s mouth, only to be drunk down greedily. “Did I do that to you?” he asked, his tone disbelieving. “Yes,” Light said, certain the experiences were comparable. Branch pulled Light close, wrapping the trembling creature in his arms. His kisses covered Light’s face and neck, but they spoke no more that night.

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Chapter Seventeen

To Iylla, it looked as though Leon was pulling away the surface of the forest, like tearing the skin from a corpse. The spectacle made her uncomfortable. He gestured for her to go through the peculiar opening he had made. After a moment’s hesitation she stepped across into a place where all the colours seemed subtly different. She shivered, slightly disorientated. Trees stretched away to right and left, forming impossibly straight and impenetrable lines. The quiet male, who had not spoken, followed on her heels. He always lurked to close behind her, and had stumbled into Iylla on several occasions when she stopped. Leon was the last through, closing the uncanny rift behind him. Unlike the forest Iylla knew, this place was strangely silent – no birds sang, and the trees stood deathly still, untouched by any hint of a breeze. She stared back and forth at the unchanging, tree-flanked path, unable to make sense of it. “These are the dark roads,” Leon said, his tone hushed. “What are they?” Iylla asked, trying to sound braver than she felt. “Places between places.” “Another one of your answers that doesn’t make any sense.” “If I had better to offer, you would have it Iylla, believe me. There are enough things in Estraguil beyond my understanding, things I could not hope to explain.” He seemed melancholy, and she supposed that of late, she had turned cool to him. That was something she would struggle to explain if he in turn questioned her. Leon was just as captivating as he had always been. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence, his lips curled in complex expressions. His physical beauty was in no way diminished. Iylla knew something of herself now – no longer the fledgling creature recently awoken to life, she had lived and loved a little. Leon was different from the other beings she had known. Although she appreciated there was no one quite like her--each individual she had encountered struck her as unique--Leon was beyond all of that. He was a creature of a different order entirely, who could inhabit places between places and dissolve into a gust of air at will. This was not what she had first thought, and understanding him would evidently take time. Desire alone was not enough to bind her to him. Realising how little 107

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she knew about him inclined her to back off. She did not comprehend his nature, much less his character. They walked awhile along the unchanging path. Leon went ahead, apparently confident in this disconcerting place. Iylla took the hand of the little male, whose name she had not sought, and together they followed. She could tell the male was nervous from the sidelong glances he shot her, but she had nothing reassuring to offer him. For a while, she counted her footsteps, but rapidly the numbers became too long and she started forgetting where she was. All she saw was a long, straight track that appeared to press on unending. It seemed an unlikely way to cross the forest, and it was far too flat. The Estraguil she knew was full of hills and gorges, hidden crevices and rocky outcrops. The evenness of the path before her seemed unnatural to Iylla. The point at which Leon chose to stop seemed no different to any other place. Iylla watched him, but said nothing. He brought them out into the forest, and the relief of being in a more certain and comfortably chaotic environment washed through her. They were in a rocky place, overshadowed with dark trees. A small trickle of water ran over the boulders, forming into tiny pools amongst the crevices. The sight of it reminded Iylla of her dry throat. She crouched down and lapped at the water, finding it a little bitter and brackish. It assuaged her thirst and that was all she really cared about. The quiet male drank, but Leon did not. “We have some distance to walk,” Leon said. “How well do you know the way?” Iylla asked him. “Well enough. I haven’t been here in a long time, but I can remember this all too clearly.” While there were a great many things to wonder about, Iylla found herself disinclined towards further questions. She was tired of Leon’s impenetrable answers. This part of the forest was darker than she was used to. The trees here were tall and heavily leaved, letting little light through to the floor. The plants flourishing in the shade were small and dark leaved. The gloom had a stately quality to it and Iylla comforted herself in thinking that there might be no lizards here. Walking was hard work, as the path they took wove over rocky outcrops. The stone was rough and spiky, and it made her feet sore. Leon seemed entirely unaware of this, but the third member of their small company was soon bleeding and limping. Iylla shot him encouraging glances and asked him if he needed help, or to rest. He remained silent and she started to wonder if he was able to talk. At first she assumed the eerie sound must be some kind of bird song. It floated through the trees, haunting and melodious, making her eyes smart and her throat dry. As 108

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they walked, the faint singing became steadily louder, until Iylla realised there were words upon the air. She could not hear it all perfectly, but still it touched her deeply. Listening to the song took her mind back to those first memories of her life, of waking into awareness and seeing Leon for the first time. That seemed terribly long ago, as the days since then had changed her profoundly. Her heart had responded to him, and she had imagined so much nonsense about him that she flinched at the memories. Thoughts of Vin and Silla crowded in close, as she recalled the man who had initiated her into pleasure. Light had seen them recently, she had not, and the pain of it welled up in her afresh. Iylla thought of Seed and Air, and their tormented, dying cries. She remembered the friends left behind to fight and perhaps die for Dray. Each fresh recollection brought stabs of pain blended with gut-wrenching nostalgia. Her eyes smarted with tears but she fought not to shed them. The song was so beautiful, speaking to her as it did of loss and unwanted change. Keenly bitter were the words that caught her ears, light and eerie the voice that carried them. Pulling herself out of woeful introspection, she looked across at Leon. His face was set with an expression that wrung her already aching heart. He did not glance at her, even though she hoped he would. Drawn into himself, he struck her as being so very isolated. Iylla wondered what he was thinking and if the melody that wafted through the trees affected him as it did her. Iylla was so preoccupied watching Leon, that she did not see the wall until they were almost upon it. The shelters Silla’s people made were simple things, their walls made of split wood and crammed with all manner of plant life to keep out the drafts. The wall was more like a rock-face, impossibly smooth and covered with the most intricate designs. Iylla stared at it in mute wonder, seeing its subtle colours and complex patterns. It towered above her, vast and forbidding. A sidelong look at Leon encouraged her to think this was one of the landmarks he had expected. She wondered what sort of a place this was, and whether it was the abode of the forest power they sought. “This is the final stage of our journey,” Leon said, his voiced hushed. “I should warn you, the Restall will change things - that is her nature. Are you ready?” “I am used to change,” Iylla said, “I have known little else.” She thought her words upset him, but was not sure why. Leon reached out to her, taking her hands in his. Is this real, is your touch real at all? She dared not ask. Awareness that he could slip away into insubstantial air at any moment left her ill at ease. Dangers of the forest could not affect him, and he might not even feel her fingers on his in any real sense. The song filled her ears, keening and painful, but exquisitely beautiful. She imagined the singer as some tragic goddess who could steal any heart. Inspired by 109

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the intensity of the music, Iylla reached up and brushed Leon’s lips with hers. She could forgive him for being different, for not turning out to be precisely as she had imagined. Her mouth pressed lightly against his. She withdrew slightly then kissed him again, moving a little closer this time. She felt his arms circle her, drawing her close, until she was against his chest. He felt solid to her, like any true creature of bone and blood. His kisses came in heated response to her own, until at last she opened to him, letting his tongue dart between her lips. The song washed over them, suggestive of loss and heartbreak, of lovely things that could never come again. For a few moments, Iylla clung to Leon, and in the turmoil of their embrace, she found some glimmer of trust. They followed along the side of the smooth wall. Iylla could see that the ground was well trodden, indicating that others came this way often, or in numbers. The wall took a curved turn, and they followed it, entering a long, arcing avenue between two such tall constructions. Although the song continued, clearer and more soul-piercing than ever, there were no signs as to its source. Back and forth their route turned, until Iylla felt dazed and disorientated. The air seemed to thrum, making her skin tingle. Instinct told her she was in danger, but no obviously threatening things showed themselves. Without really thinking, she reached out to run her fingers along the shining surface of the nearer wall. It felt a little like skin, sleek and pleasant. She trailed her hand, liking the feeling of contact. It helped her feel at ease and to shake off the fears that had stolen over her. When Leon saw what she was doing, he looked surprised, but said nothing. The turns became tighter and more frequent until at last they came to the heart of the labyrinth. Iylla stopped, staring at the scene before her. They had not walked between a set of walls after all, but the coils of an enormous serpent. Iylla had seen snakes in the forest, some were almost as big as she, but the scale of this beast startled her. The great head was still in repose, one vast and glinting eye watched them. It was then she realised that the mournful singing had ceased. As her eyes roved over the vast head of the snake, Iylla realised that there was another figure, one so small that she had not even noticed it at first. The woman was tiny, shorter even than Iylla herself. She was perched on a boulder, her large and watchful eyes turned on the trio who had entered her sacred place. Despite her diminutive stature, she was a striking figure, with her long black hair, and knowing smile. Iylla had expected to feel intimidated, but instead she was drawn to this manifestly potent figure. Without waiting to see what Leon meant to do, she strode forwards. “Hello Iylla,” the woman greeted her warmly, as though welcoming an old friend. “Hello.” 110

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For a while neither said anything, each studying the other openly. Iylla could feel the sheer power in the dark haired woman, as it radiated out from her. It seemed as though all the energy in this strange place was focused in the small and slender form. Eyes that sparkled laughter met her own and she wondered why Leon had been so apprehensive. The woman’s attention shifted, and Iylla turned slightly, watching Leon approach. “Hello Leon. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” “It has been rather a while.” “I see you are pretending skin again.” They both vanished, dissolving into the air. Iylla glanced back at the silent male, finding only the two of them remained apparent. So this woman also had the ability to melt into little more than breath. What transpired between these two powers was now beyond her. They had moved onto some other level of being and connection. Iylla closed her eyes, conscious of the air against her skin, wondering if they remained close by, if even now they wove about her in secret circles. The snake closed its eye, lazily blinking at her. The golden gleam of its orb drew her attention, and she stared into the vast depths. Was the snake guarding the woman, or did the woman guard the snake? Which one was the Restall Leon had spoken of? Then the woman was at her side again, an arm around her waist. Iylla felt inexplicably at ease, as though they had been close like this for a long time. “Leon wanted to know if I made the lizards that killed your friends,” she said. Her speaking voice was musical, echoing the song that had touched Iylla so intensely. “Did you?” she asked. “No. I can feel them, little hungry things that they are. They have a name now, they are farrins, but they are not mine.” Iylla listened, but said nothing. “I will tell you how they kill. They have a poison in their teeth, one or two won’t hurt you, but in numbers their poison ignites your body, they cook you from within.” Iylla remembered what she had seen of Air and Seed, and shuddered. “Thank you,” Iylla said. “I believe Leon wants me to give you my blessing,” the woman said, laughing. Iylla cocked her head to one side and thought about this. “Why?” “A very good question. Your maker would not welcome my interference, but I gather he is not best pleased with you as it is.” “I didn’t do what he wanted, no.” 111

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“I’m sure you didn’t. Dray made you, Leon breathed inspiration into you, what will I give you? What shall I turn you into?” Iylla’s heart beat faster at this. “I think you will prove very troublesome indeed, a delightful prospect,” the woman remarked. Where the roll of snakeskin came from, Iylla could not have said. Compared to the girth of the serpent, it was not an especially big fragment. “The essence of change,” the woman said, “Make of it what you will.” Iylla accepted the roll of skin, holding it carefully. It had hardly any weight to it at all. “Now Leon, what will I do with you?” she asked. “I did not seek your favours on my own account.” “You never do, which is a pity. I have a proposition for you Leon. Your imagined skin suits you, you look well in it. Perhaps you should give up a part of yourself and go with Iylla as a mortal creature.” The silence that followed her statement was long and uncomfortable. “There are things you can never have as you are, and well you know it. I know how tired you are Leon, why not give it up, and go forth in the skin you have woven out of your longing? Why not live and die as others do?” “I would not know how to do it,” he said simply. “But I would. You could gift me with your leavings, I could help you lose that part of yourself, if you so desire” His eyes rose to meet Iylla’s and she saw questions there, ones he would not voice. He did indeed look tired and worn, as though the weight of many long years was bearing down upon him. “Yes,” he said. “Come closer to me.” Leon approached the woman, and at the same time drew nearer to the gargantuan head of her snake. Slender arms went about his shoulders, as she reached on tiptoe to kiss his lips. Iylla saw the snake rise up, its mouth opening to reveal deadly fangs. Its forked tongue shot forth, and it seemed as though it passed through the body of the woman. With the snake working through her, she appeared translucent and insubstantial. The tongue covered Leon’s face, licking at him, circling his throat and running freely over his body. Leon’s back arched, his face squeezed shut as though in pain. The woman’s hands touched him, working over the form he had chosen just as the snake did. Iylla found the spectacle arousing, and felt her nipples stiffen into firm peaks. 112

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Under the onslaught of tongue and hands, Leon shuddered and swayed. When the snake’s tongue finished licking him from head to toe, he crumpled to the ground. Iylla approached him cautiously and found his skin unusually warm. She reached for his hand and held it until he lifted his head and favoured her with a wan smile. The woman grinned at them both. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Heavy,” Leon said. With Iylla’s help, he struggled to his feet. “It has been good to see you,” the woman said, “but we will not meet again, not in this lifetime of yours I think.” Leon nodded, resigned to this truth. “I take it the little offering is for me? That is appreciated.” Iylla wondered what she meant by this. The woman blew a lone kiss into the air, and faded away from sight. “We should go now,” Leon said, his tone urgent. Iylla hesitated. The light was fading. The snake had lifted its head somewhat, and was looking about, its eyes sharp and its tongue tasting the air. “Go!” Leon pushed her shoulders. Iylla could see where the snake’s attention was directed. The silent male Dray had given to Leon was backing away, pale with fear as his limbs shook. “No!” Iylla broke away from Leon and ran forwards, hoping to affect a rescue. She was too slow, and the vast jaws closed down upon the male, rapidly silencing his one scream. Where there snake’s head was raised, she could see another place, one that had been hidden by its body throughout the earlier encounter. Here the ground was blackened, and there was a great mound of bones, in varying states of decay. There were so many remnants that she could not guess at their number. The pile stretched as far as she could see. There were tiny white bones visible nearby, alongside huge yellowing ones from creatures that most have been almost as monstrous as the serpent itself. Skulls stared at her with blank eyes and the air buzzed with flies. Iylla had seen the aftermath of death before, but never on such a scale. The sight of it froze her and she could not take it all in. Leon took her arm and pulled her so that she must walk or fall. He hauled her away from the macabre sight. Half running, half stumbling they fled from the serpent’s maze. “You knew!” Iylla shouted, grieved and furious. “I knew,” Leon echoed, not meeting her eyes. “You took him to his death. You never gave him a choice or a chance!” 113

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She clenched and unclenched her fists, raging and close to violence herself. “She never demands anything, but offerings make a lot of difference to how her gifts take effect.” “His life was not yours to give.” “It’s done,” Leon said. “You have an extraordinary gift in your hands, bought at a high price.” “I don’t think I can accept what you’ve done. You should at least have told me.” “Perhaps I should.” “I’m sure we could have found something else to give her rather than just feeding her snake,” Iylla added, her tone still sharp. Leon closed his eyes. “Who did you think we made our offering to?” his eyes opened and locked with hers. “She is the snake.”

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Chapter Eighteen

Charn waited until late in the night to talk with his mother. “I’ve come of age,” he said as they walked together along the perimeter wall. “I know.” “I can’t dedicate myself to the Blessed Sun. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it feels wrong.” Silla considered this for a while before she answered. “There will be trouble if you don’t,” she said. “There will be trouble anyway.” “True enough.” Silla had considered her problems at length over recent days. The prospects appeared bleak. Scope for peaceful resolution had never seemed further away. Quin was building a powerbase within their community, and tensions were mounting as people were increasingly obliged to take sides in the power struggle. This was a fight Silla did not want, but she could not stand by and watch Quin’s unyielding madness wipe away all reason from their way of life. “What do you want to do?” she eventually asked her long-limbed son. “I do want to make a dedication, but to something here, something of the forest.” He paused, and Silla wondered what the consequences of his decision would be. “I was thinking of offering myself to the lady of the little moon.” Silla’s sharp intake of breath was plainly audible against the quiet night. “You aren’t happy with this?” Charn asked. “You’ve picked the thing Quin hates most, after Iylla that is.” “That wasn’t the only reason for my choice.” The moon in question hung low in the sky, a small crescent that shone down upon the forest. Mother and son regarded it for a while, both quietly contemplative. “How do you want to do this?” Silla asked. “I don’t know.”

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“I’ll talk to your grandfather. I think he will understand. We could keep this just between the family. There’s Vin, of course, he’ll help you too. That would make three of you, it’s a good number.” “Thank you,” Charn said. “I’ve half a mind to dedicate with you. The Blessed Sun does not seem so wise to me any more. We can’t live in the forest and try and keep ourselves apart from it.” She squeezed Charn’s hand. “I don’t much care for the things Quin says in his name, and the miracles she claims frighten me.” “Me too,” the young man admitted. “Everything changes if we do this.” “I know.” He seemed so old to her in that moment, far beyond his years. Pride in his strength and new-found manhood moved Silla. He was turning into a man she could respect, and it was hard to think she had carried him in her body not so many years ago. From the forest beyond came a long, low cry. It sounded like no night-wanderer either of them had heard before. A second call answered the first, some distance away. Silla shivered, a sudden premonition of danger making her skin prickle. “What is it?” Charn asked. “Something we don’t know about yet. I don’t know.” Silla looked around at the quiet encampment and the looming forest beyond. “Let’s get home.”

**** When the last of the light faded, Leon and Iylla had no choice but to stop walking. They had maintained an uneasy silence for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts and wary of the other. “We aren’t going back the way we came then?” she asked. “We can’t. That’s one of the things she took from me.” “Do you know where we are?” “In relation to the rest of the forest? Almost exactly. A long way from anywhere else.” “We can’t use your dark roads then?” “There are a lot of places where they cross Estraguil in more obvious, physical ways, if I can find one of those, we can walk it, but it will take longer, and I don’t know of any crossing places.” “I see.”

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“Everything comes at a price. Perhaps it was selfish of me to take what she offered, but I’m tired Iylla. You’ve lived a very short time, I feel as though I’ve lived forever. Maybe I have.” She said nothing to this. “I wanted to live and feel as you do, to have a life akin to yours, to be able to love and grow old,” he confessed. “What are we going to do then?” she asked, sitting cross-legged and removing the larger twigs and stones from beneath her. “You can’t carry your news to Dray, I can’t help my friends. We’re lost,” Iylla muttered. “I do know where we are, it’s just a long way from where you want to be.” “I don’t know anything about the forest, or where anything is.” “I know the forest, but I’ve never walked it this way, and it makes less sense from the ground.” “So you have some idea which direction we need to go in?” “Some.” “Then we walk. We’re going to find the people I left behind me.” “They mean a lot to you, don’t they?” he asked. “They are all I have.” He fell silent, and Iylla realised what she had said. “They’re all I have aside from you. Leon, I don’t understand half the things you tell me, and I am still cross with you, but I like you more than not.” “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Iylla, how do you stop feeling cold?” Surprised, she reached through the darkness and found his arm. His skin was as cold as it had ever been. She moved closer, pressing her body against his. “We used to huddle together and keep each other warm. Silla’s people use pelts and skins as well.” “You feel very warm to me.” He was shivering. Iylla tried, and failed to imagine what he might be going through. Pity for his current state muted her anger, and she held him as best she could, using her body to warm him. “I hadn’t realised how intense it is being alive. It’s all now, and everything makes me feel. I don’t know what half those feelings mean.” “You’ll learn,” she said. “I’m shaking.” “That’s most likely because you are feeling cold.” His stomach rumbled and she added “that’s hunger. You’ll just have to put up with it. I can’t hunt in the dark.” 117

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“There’s something else,” he said, “I don’t know how to explain. My stomach feels like leaves rustling in the wind, my chest feels hot even though the rest of me is cold, and there’s swelling…” he trailed off, then added, “I used to be able to will that to happen, now its occurring all by itself, and it feels… I can’t tell you how it feels.” Iylla knew enough to guess what that meant. “Oh.” She was glad of the night, for it hid her fierce blush. He had, in all innocence, described the details of his arousal. This made her realise that past encounters, when she thought he was hard for her, had been something else entirely. Then he had simply emulated how other creatures lived. Now it was really happening for him. She knew exactly what it meant, but he evidently did not. The thought that he desired her was enough to divert Iylla’s thoughts from all other topics. She felt very hot indeed. If he did not understand the basic forces of desire, then he had probably never coupled with anyone, only observed the mechanics. That thought startled her. She had rather imagined he knew all about everything. The immediacy of her own needs after the horrors of the previous few days took over. Iylla ran her fingers lightly over his chest. “Do you like that?” she asked him. “Yes.” She shifted her position and used her mouth on him instead, flicking her tongue over the small nubs of his nipples. He made a startled sound, so she did it again, and the second time he sighed with contentment. She kissed her way up to his mouth, licking at him until he replied in kind, his tongue teasing at hers, tips touching and twining until she sucked him into her. He did seem more solid and certain, she though. His hand found her breast, working cautiously at first, then kneading her with growing confidence. Iylla arched her back, pushing herself against his hand. Her fingers skimmed across his lean stomach, down to the swelling he could not name. The risen glory of his masculinity was easy enough to find - a long, firm erection that felt like a perfect fit for her fingers. “Lie down,” she said, “I’m going to teach you what this is for.” He complied, and she straddled him, using her hands to direct him towards her already slick and pulsing cunt. She wanted the heat of his body in hers, the lustful pounding and sweaty pleasures of sexual contact, strong enough to make her forget painful things for a while. She wanted to teach him joy. When she sank down upon him, he groaned and she could tell he liked it. As she moved, he gasped and shuddered. It was over before it had truly begun, as she felt the gush of his release. Disappointed and wild with frustration, she rested her head on his chest. Her need was so strong that she could almost weep over it. With Vin it had been 118

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very different, and her male friends had lasted longer during that brief time when they had played with each other. She did not know what had gone wrong. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he said, amazement audible in his voice. She was glad to have given him this, but it did not slake the sexual thirst of her own body. He stroked her feathers and ran his fingers up and down her back. “Iylla?” With the first surprise of his pleasure passed, he responded to her quiet stillness. “Is something wrong?” She sniffed, and Leon touched her face lightly with a fingertip. “I wish it had lasted a bit longer,” she admitted. “Ah,” he said, and after a pause for thought added, “that didn’t do anything for you.” “Not really.” “I’m sorry. I may have existed for a long time, but I’ve only truly lived today. I don’t know what to do for you.” Iylla thought back over the things she had done with others, and tried to think what she could show him given that neither could see the other. She climbed off him and lay down at his side, pulling him towards her. It took her a moment of fumbling to find his hand and direct his fingers down to her aching sex. “You can do it with your fingers instead.” Iylla guided him, with careful words, and found that he was capable enough. His fingers were long and penetrated deeply into her, soon finding the places that needed to be touched and stimulated. He achieved the rhythm she needed, thrusting in and out until her hips rose automatically to meet him, and she had to make a conscious effort not to dig her claws into his shoulders. His mouth covered hers, stifling her little cries as he inflamed her with kisses. The first shock-waves of pleasure struck, each a little stronger than the last. She remembered the midnight sun as it burned across the sky, remembered the lights and the booming noise that seemed to shake the entire world. Now it was only she who was rocked, she who streamed light and burned fiercely through the night. The clenching, trembling rounds of pleasure came thick and fast until she had no more to give and implored him to stop. “I could feel you,” he said, “when you clenched around me and gripped my fingers. I could feel what was happening inside you” Iylla snuggled against him and made no answer. For now at least, she was as happy as she had ever been. 119

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Chapter Nineteen

Silla was barely awake when she heard the first cries. Grabbing her spear, she roused the rest of her family and peered through the hides that covered her doorway. There was nothing to see in the immediate space beyond her home, but the cries of alarm and sounds of conflict were clearer. In her youth, she would simply have run out to find the fight and do what she could. Silla was older and wiser now, with children to protect. “Can you see anything?” Vin asked. He was close behind her. “Nothing informative.” She turned to face the room. Cracks in the walls let in beams of light, partially illuminating the space. Charn and Rill had quickly armed themselves. Trian had a short knife in her small hands and Fin was brandishing a stave. If they stayed, they might benefit from the protective walls, but equally, they could be trapped here. “Vin, watch the door. Everyone stay put.” Silla ducked outside and looked around for signs of danger. She could see a few of her neighbours, hurrying in different directions. Without good leadership to pull them together, they would not fight to best effect. Silla was no longer sure who would listen to her. She decided to concentrate on keeping her family safe. It was most likely the fighting she could hear was the first conflict amongst her people, or so she believed. It was easy enough to scale one of the main supports of their home and clamber onto the roof. Only when she had reached this vantage point could Silla grasp what was happening. Her encampment had been flooded with a horde of unfamiliar aggressors. This was not infighting, but invasion. Looking across the camp, she could see the mass of attackers were pulling down houses and fighting all those who got in their way. Some of Silla’s people stood and raised spears against the assault, some tried to run, but they were all pulled down sooner or later. Silla could hear the screams of those who fell. Dropping to the ground, she barked urgent orders to her family. They quickly gathered a few essential possessions, and set off at a run, heading away from the attack. Silla sounded the alarm as she went, rousing those who still slept, and giving them the best chance she could at defence or retreat. 120

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Two naked figures rushed at them from behind the last of the shelters. “Iylla!” Silla cried out, recognising one. Neither of the two stopped, and Silla realised they meant harm: Their eyes were cold and blank, while their charge was a definite attack. Raising her spear and readying herself, Silla could not afford to let herself think or feel too much. She had to defend her children, no matter who or what came at them. Silla stepped forwards, conscious of Vin at her side. The combat was brief and bloody. Silla’s spear flickered through the air, the aim sure after years of hunting, and occasional fighting. She caught the feathered woman in the chest, just below one breast. Blood gushed out of the wound. Without hesitating, Silla pushed forwards, driving the point further in. Her opponent crumpled to the ground, thrashing and screaming. She pulled the spear out, and landed a second blow. Even before the dying woman ceased moving, Silla was looking around for other threats. Vin had felled the man with curling horns, and his furs were splattered with congealing blood. Silla swallowed hard, and looked down at the lifeless form. “Come on,” Vin took her arm. “Not now, think about it later. We haven’t time.” The wooden barricade was meant to protect them. Once breached, it turned the settlement into a trap. They ran along the high fence, looking for a place to climb over. There were only two ways in and out, one of which would take them back towards the worst of the fighting. Other people were trying to flee - some climbed the walls but most could not. Silla, Vin and Charn might have managed, but the others would not and it was too high to lift them over. The fight was coming to them, slowly but surely. Three more people attacked them. None of them seemed to be armed. Silla realised the initial success of the assault had been achieved with weight of numbers. Now the aggressors were spread thinly across the camp, they could be killed with comparative ease. Charn bloodied his spear in that fight. It was the longest morning she had ever known. Silla fought sporadically, picking off those who came in twos or threes, trying to avoid the larger groups. She saw too many corpses that she could not put names to. The dead had been torn apart, and the sheer violence of it shocked her. She had never seen anything so brutal. In places, the ground was slick with blood and other fluids. The air hummed with flies, and she could smell death in every breath she drew. There were others who looked like Iylla, and the sight of them tore at her already battered feelings. The similarity was uncanny, and she did not understand. It seemed unnatural to her, and horrible beyond words. Killing people who wore the face of a woman she had loved might be possible in the heat of the moment, but she knew that afterwards, this day would haunt her for a long time. 121

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Silla had never been a war leader. She was old enough to fight during the last of the battles, but her mother had led then. Silla did not know how to muster her people in a fight. Those she found during the day looked to her for guidance. She did what she could, forming them into small, mobile groups and directing them to pick off lone opponents. Escaping was impossible, they would have to fight off this assault if they meant to survive. All she could think about was staying alive and keeping her family together. Her head ached for want of water, and her tired limbs complained at every turn. By the afternoon, her own group had grown slightly. A few others had come to her. They too were weary beyond asking questions. No one had the energy to do more than wait. In the shade of the high fence, they rested, shared what food they had, and watched for attackers. No one spoke, but the cries of the dying punctuated the silence all too often. They came at last, as she feared they would. Silla was too tired to keep running. It was as much as she could do to stand and lift her spear against the approaching enemy. The perimeter wall at her back offered some protection, and it was as good a place to make a stand as any. Looking at the fighters who surged towards her, Silla did not hope to win. It occurred to her there would be just time to give quick deaths to those she loved most. She considered it, hesitated, and then the battle was upon them. There were about a dozen of them with spears, protecting several others who could not manage weapons, including her youngest children. They were all tired, but they had everything to fight for. Silla fought and killed, hardly seeing the faces of those who advanced upon her, barely feeling the clawed blows that occasionally broke through her defences. When they pulled her spear from her sweat-slickened hands, she resorted to kicking and hitting out, not letting them get a grip on her. There were too many. Their fallen bodies were hampering her. She did not remember dropping to her knees, or what happened to end it. She expected to die, but they did not fall upon her to tear her limb from limb. All she felt was her father’s touch on her shoulder and a soft voice telling her it was over. It seemed that a very long time passed before she could open her eyes or move. The ground before her was littered with the dead and the dying. It seemed impossible that they could have fought off so many. There were no signs of combat audible, only the distant sounds of weeping and the smell of fire. Some of the shelters were alight. Silla looked around at her family, tears of sheer exhaustion blurring her sight. It was only then she saw Charn was missing. “Where is he?” she cried out in panic, scanning the dead for signs of her boy. “I don’t know,” Rill answered. “I lost sight of him.” There were others nearby, and she scanned them, hoping to see them. 122

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“I’ve got to find him,” she said. Where the energy to move came from, she could not have said. Silla searched carefully through the dead, finding quite a few of her people who lived still, despite their injuries. The scale of carnage was hard to believe. By nightfall she was still searching, but there was no sign of her boy.

**** This was not like Iylla’s usual dreams. It was the first time she had dreamed of something that she had not seen in waking life. She was faced with a wall, as smooth as the snake’s body had been, but looking far more like stone. It towered above her. Walking around it, she found the thing was circular, and that there was a way in. She climbed up steps that turned in a tight spiral, and in the way of dreams, the journey seemed to go on forever. Eventually she reached the top, and it afforded her a view out over the forest. She had never seen so far before. The sky above was blue and dotted with small white clouds. On the horizon, she thought there was water, but it was hard to tell. The sky was empty, there was no hint of winged dangers, but still she felt ill at ease. There were free-standing blocks of stone around the outside of this circular space. Most were nothing more than ungainly slabs. Two looked remarkably like people. She thought that was odd. Stepping closer, she examined the pair who stood side by side. One was unmistakably Silla. Iylla touched the cold stone face, wishing it was warm flesh beneath her fingers instead. It looked as though Silla had been transformed into rock, and this was not an impression Iylla liked much. She turned her attention to the second figure. The woman was of a height with the first, her head crowned with feathers and her eyes large. Having only ever seen rippled reflections in pools, Iylla took some time to realise she was seeing an image of herself. She took a step back, perturbed. When she woke, she remembered everything that had happened with Leon in recent days. He was still submerged deep in his own dreams. Turning, she saw the role of snakeskin at her side, and pulled it open. It was translucent, but shimmered faintly with the rich colours of the serpent herself. Iylla studied it, remembering how the woman had called it ‘the essence of change’. What was she to do with it? It was too small to turn into anything much, too fragile for obvious use. Memories of the dream, of her own face and Silla’s rendered in stone surfaced in her thoughts. She ran the back of her hand over the skin, and wondered. Using her claws carefully, she cut a circle about the size of her face. The fibrous stem of a nearby creeping plant proved flexible enough to tie it to her. The mask felt peculiar against her skin, but she could just about see through it. She was about to abandon the idea as foolish when the prickling feeling of being watched crept over her. 123

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There were three of them, long of limb and ghostly pale, with searing red eyes and a loping gait. “Jewel?” Iylla asked, recognising the form. Perhaps these were other creatures of Dray’s. None of the three hounds showed any signs of recognising her. They sniffed the air and advanced, predatory. Iylla kicked Leon hard, waking him abruptly. He was barely on his feet as the three bounded forwards. The words he uttered were alien to Iylla’s ear. The hounds paused in their attack, looking thoughtfully at their intended meal. Leon continued speaking. One of the hounds whined at him, ears twitching and alert to every sound. The smallest of the three snapped at Iylla then leapt upon her, tumbling her to the ground. She did her best to fend it off. A harsh bark stopped it from sinking its teeth into her shoulder, but she had felt its breath against her neck. It looked in the direction of the other two and let her go. By the time Iylla had regained her feet, the trio of hounds had long since vanished. “What were they?” Iylla asked. “Krask hounds. We are lucky I still have my gift for tongues. They would have torn us apart in no time.” “I doubt that,” Iylla said. “Don’t. There is nothing I know of sharper than those teeth. In addition, they know what will happen just a little while before it does. It makes them difficult to attack. That’s how they bring down krask.” “What is a krask?” “A large, fierce creature, with a tough hide, tusks, and the foulest temper imaginable. Another animal we would do well not to meet.” He looked her up and down. “What are you doing?” he asked. Iylla pushed the mask back over her head. “I don’t know,” she sighed. Looking down, Iylla realised she had a tuft of white hairs caught under one of her claws. Evidently she had pulled them from the hound during their brief scuffle. She pulled the mask from her head, but when she next looked at her hand, the hairs were gone. The flimsy skin felt heavier in her hand, and looking down she saw that it had changed, becoming whiter, with a trace of red where her eyes might be. She stared at it, wondering what this meant. Iylla’s mouth felt very dry as she placed the mask over her face once more. The trees around her twisted and span, the ground rushed towards her and her stomach heaved 124

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violently. Then she was on all fours, seeing and smelling the world from an entirely new perspective. Turning towards Leon, she could see his surprise. Looking down, Iylla saw she had furred, white feet. She could feel something she suspected might be a tail. Tentatively, she took a few steps forward, finding four feet harder to co-ordinate than two. She could still feel the mask covering her face. Sitting down, she used a paw to prise it off. Her surroundings swirled disturbingly again, but then she was herself once more. “You turned into a hound!” Leon exclaimed. “I thought so.” She considered the mask. “Stay here and look after the skin,” she said, “I’m going hunting.” Putting the mask on for a second time was easier. She ran around the nearby trees for a little while, getting used to being different, and practising creeping up on Leon. When she was sure of herself, she set out into the trees, looking for a likely meal. After a while she realised her sense of smell was heightened in this form. The forest was alive with scents, but she did not know what half of them meant. Iylla had the peculiar feeling she was going to fall. As she mulled this over, she stumbled and came crashing to an undignified halt. Her nose told her there was something close by, and she could just about hear it breathing. Looking about, she could see nothing at all. She sniffed at the undergrowth, and after a while her nose came into contact with something that felt like feathers and smelled distinctly edible. Opening her jaws wide, Iylla bit down. There was a squawk, and her mouth filled with feathers. The thing wriggled and writhed for a while, then went limp. She could taste its blood in her mouth. It was difficult to pluck a bird whose natural camouflage made it extremely difficult to see. They managed in the end, and Iylla kept a few of the feathers. The bird did not seem especially bright, but its ability to hide could prove very useful. Iylla knew what her next mask would be. For a while, she considered making a tree mask, but then realised she would be unable to take it off. Better to stick with mobile creatures. The masks would transform her experience of the forest, she knew that. There was enough skin to make a considerable number of them. The possibilities danced through her mind, and she gave silent thanks to the eerie snake woman who had bestowed this amazing gift. Her thoughts turned then to the male who had died to pay for it, and she hoped his spirit travelled well wherever it had gone. “You know the forest from the air, don’t you?” Iylla asked. “Yes,” Leon told her. “If I was to make us a pair of bird masks…”He raised his eyebrows. 125

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“That might work. I’m not sure how easy it would be to learn to fly, but we may as well try,” Leon replied.

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Chapter Twenty

Light spent a lot of time trying to think what Iylla would do. Sometimes that helped. Iylla was practical, she always saw to it that they hunted and found safe places to sleep. She encouraged them to think for themselves. Light attempted to do the same. It was hard suddenly having to think for several dozen rather than just one. However, there was no-one else to do it. Light was glad that the survivors of the original company were still together, that at least meant there were others who could share the burden. The new ones had no gift of language, and their long silences were troubling, making it far harder to work out what they needed or how they might behave. Several had shown signs that they wanted to learn, but it was very slow and Light had no real idea how to teach them. The assault on Silla’s people a few days previously had been terrible. They were still very much in the aftermath, haunted by the bloodshed and collecting lost stragglers. Memories of the violence preyed on Light’s thoughts. Wanting no part of it, Light had stayed at the back, watching with morbid fascination as the carnage ensued. There were so many of them, each with the same fixed expression of destructive intent. They seemed oblivious to the deaths of their comrades, or to the nature of their victims. Watching them was sickening, but it was impossible to look away from the bloodshed. Rain had gone with them at first, full of zeal for Dray’s cause. Light watched the diminutive female return after the first clash, her body spattered with blood and her face pale with shock. Light descended from her tree to deal with the crisis, leaving Jewel alone to witness the attack. Evidently from close to it had been far worse than these partial images at a safe distance could communicate. “Rain?” There was no answer, and barely any hint of recognition. Light touched Rain’s arm, found she was shaking and pulled her close. “So much blood,” the woman croaked, but emotion overcame her and she said no more. Using leaves still moist from an early morning rain shower, Light cleaned the blood from Rain’s body, then dealt with the smears the embrace had left. 127

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“Any changes?” The question was directed up to Jewel. “Silla’s people have started fighting back. They are using sticks and other things, and are killing now.” Light had seen something of the weapons they carried, the spears tipped with sharp stones, and the small blades. Those would take a toll. “Sit down next to Branch,” Light instructed. Rain did as she was told, depositing herself at the foot of the tree and hugging her knees with her arms. Branch was still beside her, his eyes screwed tight shut and his expression pained. We weren’t meant to kill, Light realised. When he made us, it was to drive them out, not to slaughter them. These new ones are made to shed blood. He made us more like him, thinking, speaking, feeling. I don’t know what sort of creatures they are. That had been two days ago. Now most of Dray’s creatures were dead, and only a frightened few remained, wide eyed and barely able to fend for themselves. With their purpose fulfilled and the enemy brought low, if not driven out altogether, they had nothing to live for. In the first day, two of them had simply sat down and refused to move. Light thought that thirst was probably what killed them, but making them drink proved impossible. Watching them slip away inspired rage and frustration, but there was nothing to be done. Without someone to drag them along and make them live, the rest might do the same all too easily. Light was determined that would not happen. At least Jewel was able to help, willing to work with them and teach these newer creatures much needed hunting skills. She had come into her own of late, a quiet, determined female with a strong mind and keen hunting skills. She seldom complained, and worked harder than anyone else. Although they didn’t really talk about it, Light knew they were working towards much the same ends – collective survival being the most important thing. Rain appeared to get over the initial shock from the violence she had witnessed – she talked a little, ate, slept and managed other semblances of being functional. She remained remote. She was watchful, wary and mistrustful, keeping mostly to herself. Rain had wounds, but they didn’t show on the surface and Light had no idea what might heal them. Another casualty to watch over, another lost soul unable to care for herself. Light felt the responsibility for this collection of damaged beings deeply, and feared she could not do enough for them. She wished Iylla was with them. Iylla was older and wiser, she knew the ways of the forest and always seemed able to decide what to do for the best. Light found it a real struggle to work out what they should do, and remembered Iylla’s brief leadership with considerable respect. 128

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During the two days since the fight, they had picked up a few stragglers. Light thought there might be more, but the forest was large and the survivors had scattered in all directions. She did not think those who escaped alone would survive for long. Where was Dray, she wondered, now that they had completed his work? Why did he not come to aid them? Why had he sent Iylla from them when they needed her most? At first, Light had pinned all hope on the idea of finding Iylla again, but as the days passed, the sheer size of the forest became apparent and the futility of such an attempt ever more obvious. “Can’t you sleep?” Branch asked. Light had not even realised he was close by. He could move very quietly indeed when he wanted to. “No,” Light admitted. “I think everyone else has settled though.” It was almost dark, but the forest around sounded tranquil and the others were resting quietly. “Neither can I. I can’t stop thinking. I want to rest, but there’s no peace for me.” Light touched his shoulder, then kissed him, feeling the roughness of his cheek. “I can’t see any point to any of this,” Branch said, “we go on day after day, we hunt, kill, sleep, wake, begin it all again. We have no purpose, nothing to live for.” “We have each other.” “Is that enough?” “I think so,” Light replied. It was the only thing that made it bearable. “Sometimes you almost make me believe that.” “Let me try now.” Light was too tired to have thought of pleasure, but the need in Branch’s voice was painfully apparent. Tender kisses and gliding caresses might distract him for a little while. There had not been time for such shows of affection since the fight. Pressed close against Branch’s broad chest, with fingers trailing over his back and lips feasting on his, Light felt more certain than ever that this did indeed compensate for everything else. The familiar, earthy scent of his body, the weight of his hands – all these things were precious. Light dropped to one knee, applying a nimble tongue to his rising cock. Branch emitted a low, throaty growl of appreciation, encouraging Light to greater efforts. Exploring fingers found the heavy sack of his balls, and behind it the softness of his one hole. Light fondled the opening gently, curious about it. The masculine aspect of Light’s anatomy rose in sympathy with Branch’s arousal, seeking relief and penetration. As if in answer to that need, fingers closed around Light’s throbbing member, teasing the swollen flesh with practised ease. Having heard no-one approach, Light jumped, startled. 129

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“It’s me,” Jewel said in a low whisper. “Hello Jewel,” Branch murmured. Jewel’s hands covered Light’s body in long, sensual strokes. Her palms were free from hairs, but her soft fur brushed against skin from time to time. The three of them continued, touching and tasting each other, keeping their passions muted to avoid disturbing the sleepers nearby. “I want to be inside you,” Light whispered, lips brushing Branch’s ear. It took a little shuffling and patience to find just the right position. There was little light, just the faint hint of a moon’s glow. For the greater part they had to rely upon touch. Jewel lay on her back, legs spread wide. Branch knelt before her, dipping his tongue into her soft folds, licking at the moisture that pooled in response to his efforts. Light watched them both for a while, wishing it was possible to see their faces clearly. It was easier to share in something by watching it. Having moistened a finger with saliva, Light began to tease at Branch’s tight hole. The ring of it was little and firm, smaller by far than any female part. Light wanted to be inside him, and to be penetrated in turn. He pushed back very slightly, drawing the finger inside. It was a hot, tight feeling, making Light hard with want. Continuing finger play made Branch push back harder, his body welcoming penetration. Lust battled with the desire not to harm. Light drew the lone finger out, and responded to the need for pleasure. Moving ever so slowly, Light pushed inwards, feeling Branch yield as the tight ring of muscle near his entrance opened to the gently insistent pressure. Jewel moaned, her voice low and deep, sending a tremor through Light’s body. It was such an unmistakably sexual sound, the cry of one journeying into great pleasure. The tone of it seemed to reverberate in Light’s stomach, adding to the tension there. Branch was delectably warm inside as he pushed backwards, taking Light deeper in. His rumbling groan almost made Light lose control. It would be hard to delay the moment of release. Each movement and sound was so compelling, so arousing. It was obvious Branch was using his mouth well on Jewel’s body, and each hint of that exchange served to heighten Light’s pleasure. Gripping Branch’s hips, Light rocked back and forth, taking it as slowly as possible, wanting it to be good for all of them. Branch was breathing heavily now, each gasp an aphrodisiac. It was soon too much, as the rush of liquid heat rose up from the depths of Light’s body, to spurt forth in violent jets. Branch moaned with pleasure at this, remained still for a few moments, then shifted slightly. From the sounds Jewel was making, Light guessed he had redoubled his efforts upon her cunt, bringing her to the sweetness of climax. 130

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“I need more,” Branch said, the words a wonderful surprise to Light’s ears. They swapped positions, Light moving to lie between Jewel’s downy thighs, covering her mouth and breasts with kisses, before finding fresh vigour for further penetrations. Jewel was slick with pleasure and wriggled enthusiastically. Plunging down into her was sweet indeed, as her small hips rose up to meet Light’s body, and her hands roamed freely, stirring up further delicious sensation. Light’s own moist slit convulsed with sympathy, hankering after the same attention. With fumbling hands, Branch found that needy place and guided his own stiff rod inside. Soon the three of them were rocking together, sharing a rhythm of mounting pleasure. Light was ecstatic, to enter and be entered at once was a joy indeed. It would be good to have that other, as yet unexplored hole filled as well, but there might be some other chance to try that possibility. Already partially spent, Light did not feel the same urgent pressure to come. Jewel’s writhing was something to be savoured, and prolonging those spasms of pleasure, very much Light’s intention. In this at least, they could be happy. Each press from Branch’s heated loins drove deep into Light’s body, and the pressure carried through, finding its ultimate expression inside Jewel. Half delirious with sexual tension, Light imagined having combined with Branch so that there was only one of them--one body, one thrusting cock, one racing heart. Together they pressed into Jewel, taking her to new heights of sensation. It began with a subtle pulsing in Jewel’s body, clenching and unclenching, shivering and trembling. At the same time, Branch pushed harder and faster, fingers gripping tightly, forcing the pace. Held by a total awareness of two lovers approaching climax, Light had almost no sense of self at all. Jewel’s orgasm gripped the male part of Light, as Branch’s release gushed into the female part. To be a connection between them, a part of what they did would be enough. Then the shattering force of release came, ripping apart thoughts and shredding awareness with a wild power. As their combined form disintegrated into three distinct beings, Light looked around. There were eyes shining in the darkness. Lots of pairs of eyes, some large and round, others small and slightly red. There had been a silent audience then, observing their passion. Now that lust was spent, Light did not care that they had been seen. Perhaps this would get Dray’s other creatures thinking and doing more than living mechanically.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Silla had with her perhaps a quarter of the people who had lived briefly in the encampment. Some had gone with Quin, she gathered, from those she had found in the forest. There were a few loyal to the athro in spite of everything, and a few who would rather take their chances alone than join her company. Days after the attack, Silla was still hoping they would find others, that the death toll would not be as terrible as she first believed, and that they would discover some sign of her son. Having searched the ruined camp for the best part of a day, she was sure he was not there, either alive or dead. There were others unaccounted for – fled into the forest, gone with Quin, or perhaps mangled beyond all recognition. Silla was too tired to think about it. After the first day, she decided staying in the ruined settlement would not be safe. Their attackers were still in the woods, and food was running low. The ragged remains of their once mighty company set out at first light, carrying what little they had left of worth. Every last one of them had suffered some loss--a friend or lover, child, parent, sibling. They did not speak of the dead, but carried the weight of their grief in grim silence. At first they travelled swiftly, getting as far away from the scene of violence as possible. When food was close to running out, they rested and hunted. Silla saw one or two small lizards she thought might be Quin’s monstrous farrins, but they did not come in numbers and appeared to pose no threat. They no longer spoke of the Blessed Sun and saw little of his face through the heavy canopy. When they lit fires, it was purely for warmth and to cook whatever meat had been caught. It rained. They were cold and often tired, missing lost loved ones and unsure of the future. For the first time in her life, Silla had some idea what freedom meant, and understood what a mixed blessing it might be. They were free after all, the forest was theirs to roam. They were free to starve or freeze, free to fall prey to wild beasts. Only wit and ingenuity could sustain them. Silla had stopped counting the days when they came to the tree. In a world of trees, most do not stand out, but this one awed her from the first. A winding animal path brought them to a clearing, in the centre of which stood a vast boulder. The tree at first sight seemed to grow out of the rock. It was tall, with bark the colour of blood, and tiny 132

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dark leaves that created a heavy shade. Silla halted, looking at it with wonder. Her companions fanned out beside her, but no-one seemed moved to step closer. “This is a place of power,” Fenny said. Silla nodded, thinking much the same thing. She wondered what to do next. The ground around the tree seemed remarkably bare, and the grove was eerily still. Closing her eyes, Silla listened to nearby branches rustling in the breeze, and to the chattering of some small mammal high above in the canopy. She waited, conscious that she could not go forward. I can hear your blood. It was an odd thought, and Silla almost discounted it. “Can we shelter here tonight?” she asked. Images and feelings crept unbidden into her thoughts. They were slow and weighty, climbing through her psyche like roots. She understood what would be required. Opening her eyes, Silla stepped forwards into the dry and gloomy space surrounding the tree. She moved with confidence, hearing dry leaves crackle under her worn boots. Shifting her spear, she brought the stone tip to her hand. It was sharp enough. Gritting her teeth, Silla cut her palm and approached the stone on which the mighty tree stood. She could see now that great dark roots snaked down to the rich soil below. It was hard to tell wood from stone. Clenching her fist, she squeezed out droplets of crimson blood, watching them fall to touch root and tree alike. “Do as I have done,” she called out. She heard the others moving then, as though the spell binding them in place had been shattered by her speech. They did not question her order, but came quickly, opening small cuts wherever each thought they could afford the damage, then splashing their life’s blood upon the hungry roots. Fenny looked at her thoughtfully. “You are a tree-speaker,” the woman said. Silla saw her father smile at that, and felt a moment of pride. This was a new term, a new skill, but one whose importance could not be denied. She wondered how the trees of this place had ever seemed sinister. They could be dangerous and demanding, but perhaps she could hear their voices and find a way to live alongside them. When she sat down on the ground, Silla realised what exactly had been crunching under her boots. “There are a lot of bones here,” Fin said nervously. “Of course there are,” Silla replied, brushing the brittle remains away to make a sleeping space. “What do you think the tree feeds upon?” she asked her wide-eyed child. 133

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There were others looking at her now, and she glanced around, smiling. “It won’t hurt us,” she said, confident she was right. “We have given it blood, it is satisfied and will not seek for more.” The tree kept its word, and they sheltered safely, protected from the rain by its dense leaves. When Silla woke in the morning, a single wand of pale wood streaked with bloody red, had fallen into her lap. She lifted it cautiously, marvelling at the smoothness of the wood and the rich patterns of colour. “Thank you,” she murmured, stashing the wood carefully amongst her few things. Good hunting. When you leave me, follow the sun. I can smell duffets that way. Silla wondered what a duffet was, but the tree offered no more.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

It had taken a few days of hunting to find the right birds. Iylla had never spent much time in the treetops before, but as most avian life was played out up amongst the branches, she had little choice but to climb. Even without the advantage of claws, Leon was agile enough, shinning up trunks and hauling himself into high perches to keep her company. They spent several afternoon crouching and watching. Iylla wanted something sizeable and strong. There were numerous small birds she had never seen from the ground. They came in many different colours, but blended so well into the trees that they had previous escaped her notice. She saw them taking moss and toadstools from tree trunks, or digging beaks into bark crevices in search of small creatures to eat. These birds fascinated her, but they would not serve. Iylla needed something strong enough to fly above the forest, and large enough not to be at too great a risk from predators. At twilight she saw them, and from the first glimpse, knew she had found her birds. They came on silent wings, with feathers so black they gleamed and reflected the greens of the leaves. There were perhaps a dozen of them, with strong, cruel-looking beaks and bright eyes. They settled on a branch, all in a line, and set about preening themselves. Occasionally, one would raise its head and offer a chuckling cry. Iylla studied their location intently, knowing there was only one way she could gain the feathers she needed. “Do you know what they are Leon?” “They have all sorts of names, some older than others. The oldest name they have is medri. That is a name they do not share with many.” She listened to his softly lilting voice as he spoke of the birds he had known, how they hunted in the canopy for food, and of the great rivalries between different family groups. This form would not be without dangers, but life had long since taught Iylla that nothing proved safe for long. Once it was dark, she set out to climb the tree. In daylight it would have been hard enough, as the medri had chosen a trunk with few lower branches. Iylla’s eyes were good in low light, but there was not so much as a hint of moonlight, and she had to climb by feel. Her fingers ached from holding most of her weight on her claws, and the need for 135

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silence made her unhelpfully slow. Having set her mind on winning a pair of medri feathers, Iylla would not be deterred by adversity. She had discovered a strong will and stubborn streak in herself. Counting the branches, she made her way upwards towards the sleeping birds. There was a branch a little below the one she sought. Iylla wrapped her legs round it and steadied her body against the tree-trunk. For a while, she remained still, letting her breathing slow. The birds seemed undisturbed. Her plan would require speed and absolute precision. Any hesitation would cost her the prize. Taking a deep breath, she lunged. Her hands were fast enough that she took a small wing feather before the bird woke. It squawked loudly and turned its fearsome beak on her exposed arms. Iylla took her second feather at some cost, then relinquished the furious bird. It struck out at her, and she wobbled precariously, dangerously close to falling. The medri’s beak had cut her several times, she could feel the sting of torn skin and the warm trickle of blood. Her hands and arms ached from the ascent, and she knew getting back down would be just as hard. Holding the feathers carefully between her teeth, she made her way back down. Iylla slid and abraded her thighs, nearly losing control of her descent countless times. The tree seemed taller than it had in the way up and returning to the ground seemed to take an inordinately long time. The feathers she had taken were small, and would not cost the bird its flight. It in turn had shed her blood, so she supposed they were even. Iylla was impatient to start her masks, but in the thick darkness of the forest, she could not see to find the snakeskin, much less to cut it well. There was no choice but to curl up beside Leon and sleep. At least she could now rest. The nightmares of lizards that had haunted her were gone, and she no longer surfaced in a cold sweat, thinking that a swarm of the deadly creatures had covered her as she slept.

**** The first wave of disorientation came as no shock. Iylla waited it out, feeling the way in which her perceptions shifted once the mask was in place. Sharpness of beak and keenness of eye were hers. She hopped tentatively across the ground, stretched what she thought of as her arms, and flapped her wings. She could feel herself lifting slightly, but it was a long way short of flight. This was evidently going to prove harder than she had first imagined. She hopped and flapped again, going back and forth until she was exhausted. Frustrated and angry she pulled the mask off and lay on her back, gazing up into the trees. “How is it going?” Leon asked. He was shelling small nuts for them to eat. 136

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“It’s not working, I can’t find the way to do it,” Iylla said, her flaring temper audible in her voice. “I’ve never seen a medri on the forest floor,” he said thoughtfully. “What does that mean?” “That perhaps they cannot fly from the ground. I know some birds cannot and if they are forced to the ground, they die there.” Iylla sat up, lifting the dark mask and gazing thoughtfully at it. “Do you think I would do better if I jumped out of a tree?” “It’s possible, but if it goes wrong…” Iylla shrugged. She hung the mask around her neck and clambered up the tree they had watched from. It had plenty of stout branches and did not require her to use her battered claws too much. Unsure how far she could safely fall, should the wings still fail to bear her, Iylla only went about twice her height form the ground. Perched on the widest branch she could find there, she pulled on the mask, trying not to sway too badly as the confusion of altered awareness overcame her for the second time that day. Looking down, she could see Leon watching her, the expression on his face nervous. Spreading the still unfamiliar wings, Iylla jumped. Air rushed past her face, she fell, seeing the forest floor rushing upwards. Then she caught the energy of the fall, as some part of her mind grasped how to turn her wings in just the right way. She was air-born. Iylla let out a chuckling medri cry, and narrowly missed crashing into a tree. Leon joined her on the next occasion, donning the mask she had made for him, and following her in the heart-stopping leap. The second time, she was quicker pulling out of the plummet, and saw how Leon struggled fleetingly, then mastered the form he now wore. He looked exactly like a bird, all traces of his other self gone. Iylla worked on gaining height until at last she was above the canopy, able to see the tree tops. Indulging in a few moments of sheer exuberance, she circled, then dropped down amongst the trees once more. “Now we can find the others,” Iylla said triumphantly. “We can try. I can’t promise, they’ve had time to travel themselves, but we stand some chance,” Leon said. Delighted with this prospect, Iylla threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. He responded with enthusiasm. “I thought I would never have the freedom of the air again,” he said. “Dare to dream,” she answered, smiling. His eyes sparkled and she kissed him again, her hands snaking over his arms and hips. Things had been complicated between them for a while – more so since he had 137

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given up his immortal impermanence. Having had a few days responsible for nothing but her own survival, Iylla was feeling clearer about who she was and what she wanted. Leon was, without any doubt the most alluring and sensually appealing individual she had thus far seen. He was full of contradictions, old beyond reckoning but new to life, so knowing in some ways, so innocent in others. She had taught him how to kill for food and manage the functioning of his body. Desire for him was a constant presence in her mind, a hunger she had not yet been able to satisfy. His kisses made her tremble in anticipation as his mouth moved over her neck and shoulders. Her fingers strayed to his erection, fondling his length and teasing at it, then reaching for the lightly haired sack that rested so perfectly in her cupped hand. One of his hands rubbed at her breasts, the other held her waist, keeping her steady. He was confident about touching her now, knowing something of what she liked. This was better by far than those first, uncertain attempts. She wanted him strong and sure of himself when he took her. Iylla’s blood was racing, flushing her skin and heightening her awareness. She licked at him, tasting salt on his body, smelling the scent of arousal that rose from between her legs as a musky perfume. His fingers caressed her slit, sliding back and forth across her entrance, spreading her juices and fuelling the heat of her lust. “I need to feel you inside me,” she breathed into his ear. He answered by laying her down, and smothering her neck and breasts with forceful kisses. Leon looked down into her face, his fingers falling lightly along the fine line of her jaw. She gazed up at him, seeing the longing in his face. After what had happened before, he was nervous and she could see it in him. “Some things take practise,” she said, “like learning to fly.” He smiled, a flash of humour wiping away the anxiety. “I’m not trying this while jumping out of a tree,” he said. “Not unless we put the masks on first,” she replied. That, she decided, was a rather interesting thought. They remained gazing into each other’s eyes as he lowered himself down upon her, guiding his cock into her body. Iylla drew her legs as wide as she could. As he pressed home, she sighed heavily. It was good merely to be so close to him, to have the warmth of his manhood inside her. For a while he was still. “It’s so intense,” he said. “There’s nothing like being inside you. I could lose control so easily, I just want to melt into you.” Iylla kissed his chin. When he began to move, the thrusts were slow, with a significant pause between each. His face betrayed intense concentration, his brow creased 138

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and his dark eyebrows drawn close. His lips pouted slightly and she could not resist the temptation to kiss him. Gradually, the movement of his body within hers worked its magic upon her. Iylla felt her sex throbbing, growing softer and more sensitive with every deep thrust. It was sweeter by far than anything she had known before. The expression on his face was more than enough to tell her that he too was in a state of rapture, fighting between the urge for release and the desire to prolong this all consuming pleasure. “I can’t hold it much longer,” he admitted. His words made Iylla giddy with anticipation. She was ready to journey with him, to ride the climax of their passion. “Yes,” she breathed, “let me have everything.” Her blessing shattered the last of his control and Leon’s back arched, his thrusts becoming fast and furious, propelling them both to greater heights of sensation. Iylla clung to him, hardly able to breathe as they shudder into shared orgasm. They remained locked together for a long time, and Iylla buried her face in his shoulder, needing the solid certainty of his newly mortal body to reassure her. She was shaken to the core, moved by a forceful feeling unlike anything she had known before. When they moved into a more comfortable position and she looked at Leon’s face, her entire chest seemed to tighten with something akin to pain. She knew what it was, had heard this elusive power named, but had never expected to feel it rage through her, so hot and strong. “I love you,” she said, and from the look on his face, she knew he was in the thrall of the same all-consuming feeling. “I loved you from the moment I saw you,” he said, “but I did not know it could be like this.”

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Chapter Twenty-Three

The dream was so vivid that when Silla awoke, she expected her son to still be squatting on the ground beside her. When she realised Charn wasn’t there, she closed her eyes against the memory of his loss. “What is it?” Vin asked, stroking her back with a warm hand. “I dreamed about Charn,” she said, “it was very real.” He sat up beside her, pulling her close. There was always comfort to be had in his arms, and his presence made her loss easier to bear. “Tell me what you saw my Silla.” “He was in a glade, bathed in moonlight. There was a woman with him, pale and ethereal. She seemed familiar, but I can’t remember seeing anyone who looked like her. She put a shimmering piece of cloth around his shoulders. I have never seen anything like it, as thought it had been spun from moonbeams. He smiled, he seemed happy. Then he sat beside me, just crouched down on his heels and told me he was safe and well.” “Do you think that’s so?” “I think I would know it if he was dead. I think he lives. I hope he does.” “I’ve noticed, since we’ve been in this forest, my dreams are always vivid. They seem very real,” Vin observed. “I dream of Iylla sometimes.” “What do you dream?” Silla asked. “I dreamed that she danced with a beautiful woman who turned into a snake, and then the snake turned into a river that ran all through the forest.” “It seems unlikely.” “I know, but it makes me feel that she is alive somewhere. I was afraid I had killed her,” Silla confessed. “That wasn’t her, the one who tried to attack you. I am sure of it,” Vin replied. “Why did it have her face? I keep thinking about it. I keep seeing her dead.” “I don’t know my love. I cannot answer that riddle for you. They only seemed to have half a dozen faces between them, and I don’t understand that. It troubles me too.” “The more I see of this place, the more peculiar it appears,” Silla said. “We could try and find our way out.” 140

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“I don’t want to leave. I don’t think I could now, this place has a hold on my soul. I can’t explain it.” “You don’t have to. I feel much the same.” The sun was starting to lighten the sky. Since their parting from Quin, Silla had felt a lot easier about the sun. It no longer seemed to watch her, and she felt safely removed from the God she had come to fear. For the first time in her life, she had started to wonder what he really was, if he was indeed the personification of the risen sun and the power that brought all light and life to the world, or if he was something else entirely. A shadow passed over them, and Silla heard the sound of heavy wing beats. Looking up, she could see that something vast passed above them. There was a foul stench in the air that lingered in its wake. “Gwiber, unless my nose deceives me,” Vin observed. Silla tensed, fearing attack, but the drumming of leathery wings remained constant, as the fearsome lizard passed them by. Only when she tasted the fading smell of it did she realise she had been holding her breath. Vin ran his hands down her forearms, fingertips feather light on her skin. His thumbs caressed the insides of her wrists, stroking back and forth along this softer flesh, tracing pale blue veins then wandering over the curve of her hand to circle the centres of her palms. The strokes increased until they reached the calloused tips of her fingers and she was able to touch his palm. Vin became still, and they remained, finger tip to palm, the slight contact inspiring intense mutual awareness. Silla looked into her lover’s eyes, seeing the passion and determination there. The scars on his face had healed well, and she reached out to trace the whorls and patterns fire had inscribed on his cheek and temple. “You will outlive me,” Silla said. “I might, or one of those gwibers might undertake to eat me next time. You never know.” “I’m serious. You’re young yet.” “I’m old enough,” Vin replied, his voice losing its playful edge. “I know. Love where you can, life is too precious to waste. I want to think you will have plenty more lovers after me.” “We’ll see. Silla, I’m not going to love you for as long as you live, I’m going to love you for as long as I live.” She smiled at that, moved by his sincerity and determination. Vin kissed her hand, then pulled her closer so that their lips met. Silla pressed kisses against his mouth, her hands sliding under his furs in search of his small nipples. His tongue flickered over her lips, and she let her own meet it, raising her pulse as his embrace crushed her breasts 141

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against his firm chest. Silla could feel the moisture seeping, preparing her tender slit for the erection he was sporting. A buzzing, humming feeling had hold of her stomach. “Mother?” Trian’s voice was heavy with sleep. Silla turned to look at her children, and saw that both were stirring. She glanced regretfully at Vin. “Later,” she said. “I hope so. Just don’t expect me to move any time soon. It’s going to be a while before I can walk.” **** Through the branches above, they could see the pinkish tones of dawn. Iylla had the two other masks she strapped firmly to her waist with thongs of animal gut. The remaining snake skin Leon wore against his stomach in like fashion. “Ready?” she asked. “I think so.” She kissed him, and found his mouth still tasted a little of the eggs they had found for breakfast. Iylla pulled her medri mask down over her face. She could still feel the masks against her waist, but experimentation had taught her that she could bear them well enough when she flew. She jumped, and her wings stretched, letting her soar through the morning light. Soon she was rising through the branches, claiming the open skies above. Leon was only a little way behind her, and she circled, waiting for him. They could not speak with the masks on, but there were some things that did not need words. The forest was a vivid swathe of greens and browns that stretched as far as they eye could see in any direction. Spiralling upwards on a current of warm air, she saw the glittering form of the great snake, its coils occupying one of the few places devoid of trees. She wondered if it saw her, if it approved, but there was no way of knowing. From above, the sheer size of the thing was hard to believe. Leon circled a few times, orientating himself, and then struck out. Iylla followed him, trying to concentrate on the journey. It was all too easy to be distracted by the creatures she could see in the canopy, or by some new and unfamiliar tree. Small creatures buzzed in the air, minute winged lizards, and many legged things that floated amidst gossamer strands. There was so much to take in. Watching Estraguil unravel its beauties and mysteries little at a time, Iylla found an unfamiliar feeling rise up within her. It was somewhat akin to the effect Leon had on her, a blend of ecstasy and pain that meshed into something fine and compelling. If she not worn the mask, she might have wept, but guised as a bird, she could not express this most peculiar and potent emotion. Seeing the forest in this way, it struck her less as being 142

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vast combination of many small lives, and more like something that existed as a single entity. She thought that if she could just listen careful enough she would hear the resonant voice of Estraguil itself. The medri form she wore tempted Iylla to snap at the small morsels in the air, taking crunchy mouthfuls whenever she could. It proved necessary to eat if she wanted to keep flying as she was unaccustomed to exerting herself in this way. She soon became adept at snatching other winged beings from the air. Some of them tasted better than others. Below her she saw a clearing that had been made by the knocking down of several large trees. On the ground, one of the giant winged lizards appeared to be chewing on the wood, its breath rising like steam as it fed. The sight of it made her forget how to use her wings momentarily, and she plummeted out of control, coming close to the treetops before she recovered herself. The monster below seemed oblivious to her, and she supposed in her bird form, it would not pay her the same attention. Iylla thought she would still be vulnerable if there was one in the air. It could snatch her for a meal as easily as she took smaller winged creatures. Leon swooped down, watching her, trying to fathom what had happened. She felt his concern even though there was no speaking. There would be time to explain later, for now she could do no more than fly well and hope he was reassured. In the middle of the day, they landed beside a river. There were tall trees nearby and Iylla thought they could climb readily enough to recommence their journey. It took her a while to scrabble free of the mask, and then she was herself again, aching and exhausted. The water was cool, and she splashed it on her skin, relieving the weary heat on her muscles. “I had no idea the forest was so big,” she said. “You have only seen a small part of it. There are lakes and mountains, great rivers, coast and sea, islands beyond it.” “Is there anything beyond Estraguil?” “Yes. There are other places. Silla’s people came from such a land.” “Have you been to any of those places?” “Not in a long while. It is not always easy to find the way here. Some leave and it takes them a lifetime to find the way back. There is nothing beyond Estraguil that I feel the need to see.” A little way upstream, a small bird dropped from an overhanging branch into the flowing water. It surfaced a little while later with a glinting flash of silver in its beak. Iylla watched it, fascinated. 143

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“I wonder if I could catch one of those,” she said. “Fish? You will find them fast.” She had not heard the word before, but when he uttered it, she grasped the meaning just as she had a sense of towering rocks when he spoke of mountains. Watching the water, she saw the forms of the shimmering fish. Iylla lunged for one, but it was too fast by far. She felt it slide between her fingers, gone in an instant. Her splashing caused the others to disperse, and although she was hungry, she laughed at her own clumsiness. The awareness that something had changed was sudden and it took her a moment to realise that Leon had grown very still. She could just see him from the corner of her eye, and he appeared to be watching something. Raising her head, she looked across the river. On the opposite bank a figure squatted, dark hair plastered against skin the colour of fallen leaves, dark eyes gleaming. It flashed a toothy grin in her direction, then plunged its arms deep into the water. The slippery, wriggling prize resisted as its captor held it high. Iylla gasped, impressed by this show of speed, and wondering who this person might be. “Hello?” she called out. The figure on the other bank bit down on the head of the fish, stilling it and making the meal manageable. Without word or explanation, it sprinted off into the trees. Iylla rose, watching it vanish into the undergrowth. Scanning the bank, she could see no signs of any others. “That is interesting,” Leon said. “What is it?” Iylla asked. “Tree-born, like yourself, and free thinking from the looks of it.” “What do you mean?” “This one was not made to serve some simple task. It thinks and feels much as we do.” “Of course it does.” “Oh Iylla,” Leon sighed. “Not all things do. Your Dray made a horde of beings to fight and kill, but not to think or feel. Not everything grown from wood has the breath of inspiration in it.” “That’s horrible, to make something that seems alive but isn’t.” “I know.” “That’s what he loosed on Silla’s people? That’s what my companions were left to look after?” “I believe so.” “Can’t they change, or grow? Everything else in this forest seems to.” 144

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“I cannot answer that. Most things here do indeed alter with time, but I have not seen your like before and I do not know what will happen to any of you.” “I expect we’ll find out.” After one final examination of the far bank, Iylla resigned herself to learning nothing more of the creature she had so fleetingly glimpsed. There was so much she wanted to know, and so many questions whose answers she had not yet found time to seek. The dark skinned fisher was just another enigma in a world that seldom made much sense to her. She responded to all that she encountered with heart and gut feeling, but knew there were degrees of understanding that eluded her. Leon had been a forest power, unchanging and undying. Now he was the same as she, but Iylla did not fully understand what that meant and had not discovered the questions that might result in real answers. She considered the possibility that perhaps Leon knew no more than she, that for him also, life in Estraguil was something to be experienced, and that there would prove to be no explanations.

**** Dray had given strict instructions that the dead should not be buried, or even covered over. He had offered no explanation. “It seems wrong to just leave them here,” Jewel said. “What else can we do?” Branch asked, looking around for inspiration. “I don’t know,” Light said, glancing at Rain. From the look on the diminutive female’s face, there was reason to think an idea was forming in her mind. “Could we put them up in a tree? It would feel less like leaving them,” she suggested. “That’s a good idea.” Branch smiled tentatively. They separated, looking for a tree that would serve. The surviving few dozen of their silent companions stayed close by the dead, watchful and wary. Light wasn’t even sure what had killed these latest two. Some of them appeared to lack the will to live. Light walked for a while, but found most of the trees in that direction too short for requirements. Following the track of crushed plant life back was easy enough. There was an odd sound on the breeze, a high and keening note that tore at the heart. It sounded like some animal in pain. Light had heard the death cries of numerous creatures, and although this piercing sound was not entirely familiar, the note of suffering was unmistakable. A second voice joined in, then a third, by which time Light had returned. The scene was a curious one. Several of them were kneeling close beside the dead ones, and it was their keening Light had heard. Their voices continued to rise and fall, 145

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creating music of loss and anguish. One by one, the rest found their voices. Few had shown any signs of speaking before, but now they howled in eerie unison. It was the first indication that most of them felt anything at all. Branch returned with news of a tree that had split, leaving a cavity that could house the corpses. It sounded like a suitable resting place. They carried the dead between them, still filling the air with the sounds of mourning. Light knew that something important had changed. They were no longer living to fulfil Dray’s will, they had somehow come into their own as creatures. Reaching out, Light touched one of the nearer ones on the arm. It was one who resembled Air, and although the similarity remained disturbing, it could be ignored. The male gazed back with doleful eyes, but accepted the offered affection. Light wanted to embrace them all, to comfort them in their loss and to teach them gentleness. They responded to contact with welcoming arms. It took considerable effort to raise the corpses up into the tree and lodge them safely in its sundered trunk. The two dead males were pressed close together, almost as though they were lovers. They had known little kindness or affection in life. It was odd to think that in death there could be such tender intimacy. The sight of them, foreheads resting together, the taller slumped somewhat against the shorter, raised a lump in Light’s throat. Gradually, the keening died away, but the quiet that followed it seemed even more unsettling. “Rest easy,” Rain said. “Life has been brief and hard, you have had nothing good. Wherever you go now, I hope it is better for you.” Light echoed the sentiment, then Branch and Jewel offered their own few words of farewell. Death was frequent, but they found each one more difficult than the last. Even though some of the younger ones had a few words at their command, none made any attempt at speaking. “Where are we going?” Branch asked as they set off once more. “I don’t know,” Light replied. “Perhaps we will know when we find it.” “I wish I had your certainty,” he said. Light did not reply, knowing that certainty was an illusion. They moved because it seemed better than staying still. They foraged and hunted as best they could, learning to utilise whatever talents Dray had seen fit to bestow upon them. Do I look as lost as the rest of them? Light wondered all too frequently. Early in the afternoon, they found an overhang of rock, a little distance from which was a circle of stones. Charred timber lay black and stark in the circle’s centre. Light recognised it at once as the remnants of a fire. That brief time in Silla’s camp had been more informative than any of them had initially realised. Touching the stones, Light 146

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found they were still very slightly warm. The fire was less than a day old, and whoever had made it could not be far away. “What do you think?” Branch asked. “We should be very careful. Someone made a fire here.” “Do you think it could be the people we attacked?” “Who else could it be? Unless there are others here we don’t know about,” Light said. “That’s possible.” “I don’t know what this lot will do if they see strangers. They might start fighting again.” They both looked around at the rest of their companions. It was possible blood lust would overcome these fighters if faced with unfamiliar faces. Finding out seemed like too great a risk, but to come so close to other beings like themselves and not seek contact would be hard. What would Iylla do? “If you stayed here for a little while, I could try and find them,” Light suggested. “Alone?” “I think so.” Branch looked worried by this. “What if something happens while you are gone?” “Then you will find a way to cope.” “Light, I will miss you, even if you are only gone a day.” Clasping both his hands, Light brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I will miss you too, but I must check. Better that, than we stumble into them.” It was easy enough to follow the trail, there had been a fair few of them, and they made no effort to disguise their presence. Light moved swiftly without a host of others to keep an eye on, and was alert to every sound. Having never spent any significant time alone before, the experience of solitude was a strange one. Light was so thoroughly in the habit of sharing every thought and observation with Branch that not talking felt very peculiar indeed. The sights and sounds of the forest became less interesting now that there was no-one to consider them with. It was not long before Light regretted the decision to go alone, feeling foolish and exposed. It was almost dark when the first sounds of activity reached Light’s ears. After a while, the orange glow of a fire became visible. Light approached cautiously, aware that these people might very easily prove hostile after all that had recently happened. Walking slowly to avoid making too much noise, Light crept closer. There were smells of charred 147

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meat in the air, blending with the acrid tang of wood-smoke. Voices wafted out of the gloom, the words indistinct. Pressed against a tree trunk Light stared at the figures around the fire. They wore furs and pelts, and the hair was spiked up, all things that would be true of Silla’s people. Studying them hard, Light could see no signs of the man and woman who had mistaken her for Iylla, or of the others who had helped her escape. She supposed they might all have been killed in the attack, and the thought descended upon her like a blow. There had been little time to think of who else might have died on that day. Then Light’s ears picked up the cadence of a familiar voice: Quin. She was blessing a meal, as far as Light could tell. These were not people it would be advisable to encounter. Light backed away, fighting down the urge to run and settling for a measured retreat that made little sound. In the darkness roots waited to trip Light’s feet and trunks reared up out of nowhere. Footsore and anxious, Light knew it would be impossible to reach Branch and the others until morning. There was little choice but to walk as far as possible and then find some secluded place to rest. Easier said than done in the darkness. Especially given that the penalties of being found were considerable.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

At first the hunting had been almost intolerable. The necessity of killing and eating was a novelty Leon did not much relish. He had seen the cycles of life and death, watched as an observer for more years than he could remember. Viewed from a distance, it had been interesting, but to be caught up in the blood pounding heat of life and death was another thing entirely. Iylla hunted for him at first, pressing still-warm corpses into his hands, showing him what to consume and what was best discarded. The whole process had horrified him. Leon found it hard to recognise his former squeamishness. He was closer to the forest than he had ever been, truly within it rather than just watching its seasons. Wearing Iylla’s krask hound mask, he raced on slender legs in search of prey. It was only a little after dawn, and he had left his beloved sleeping. She was exhausted from their travelling, from the hunting and mask making. She had cared for him while he learned to manage his mortality, but now the time had come to repay that debt. He knew what the hounds did well enough, understood something of their sensitivity to the future. That was as nothing compared to the sensation of being one. He saw with keen eyes and heard with ears so sharp that even the fall of a leaf caught his attention. His was the strength to run lightly over the uneven ground, to slink between the tree-shadows and scent after food. The taste of blood in his mouth alerted him as he bounded into a clearing. The duffets were barely on their feet as he landed amongst them. Most bounded away, their graceful leaps carrying them far and high, safely beyond the reach of his jaws. Not all were fast, and his teeth sank down into the hind leg of a young male. There was the blood his senses has pre-empted, rich and nourishing. The duffet struggled, kicking out at him in a desperate fight for life. Gradually, his jaws closed, teeth working deeper into the flesh. The duffet snorted with pain and Leon moved instinctively, missing the fierce hoof blow that might have shattered his ribs. At last the creature fell still, and he loosened his grip. It was easier to carry the corpse as Leon than as a hound, so he slipped the mask off. He was covered in blood, his pulse was racing and, with the taste of death still in his 149

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mouth, he felt more alive than ever. Here was the violent truth of Estraguil, the constant ebb and flow of energies as life consumed life. The duffet at his feet was beautiful, its creamy brown hide mottled with flecks of its own blood, its large eyes glassy as they gazed into the hereafter. He touched the pelt, marvelling at its softness, and at the rippling muscle beneath. Leon could not help but grieve at the destruction of such an exquisite thing. He needed its meat, and had stolen its life to continue his own. Keen awareness of mortality made the transient beauty of all things more apparent, and more affecting. Iylla was still asleep when he returned, so Leon sat beside her and waited for her to wake. The last of the blood drained from his kill, moistening the soil. He could not gut the beast as she would, his fingers lacked sharp claws. Looking around him, Leon wondered if there was anything he could use that would penetrate the flesh. Some of the stones loose on the ground were quite hard. He experimented with banging them together, in the hopes of making a sharp edge. All he succeeded in was breaking one in half, and shattering a second. The broken one had something of an edge on it, and he was just trying this on the duffet when Iylla woke. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Trying to cut it open.” “Oh.” She moved round to sit beside him, and with her claws made short work of the job. “Did you catch it?” she asked. “Yes,” he said, with no small amount of pride. “I took your krask hound mask.” “You did well,” she said. “I’ve tried to catch these before, I’ve never done it. They’re too fast.” “Being a hound makes it easier I would think. My own teeth wouldn’t be up to it.” “I suppose not.” They ate what they could of the meat, chewing slowly and not talking until the meal was done. Iylla gathered large leaves, and wrapped parts of the rest of it for later. Then she set about skinning the body, retrieving a large expanse of pelt. Leon watched, fascinated by everything she did. “What do you want with that?” Leon asked. “The nights are getting colder I think. We could use it.” “So long as you aren’t going to cover yourself with it. I like to see your skin.” “I won’t.” Pulling up a handful of soft plant matter, Iylla set about cleaning the blood from Leon’s body. The sticky fluid had dried on his skin, but came away easily enough. He sat 150

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still while she worked upon him, enjoying being close to her. The touch of her fingers brought his skin alive. His blood was still up from the hunt, and that wild energy was readily redirected towards desire. Naked as he was, there was no hiding the swelling of his cock from Iylla’s affectionate gaze. She shifted her position, opening her legs slightly so that he had a better view of her sex. Leon had a feeling this was no accident, but he was in no hurry to respond. Iylla plucked a fresh handful of leaves, but there was nothing really left to clean from him. Still she went over him thoroughly, leaving trails of green stains where before there had been blood. Her feathers brushed against his arm, touched his stomach, making him shiver with anticipation. Leon closed his eyes, luxuriating in her attention. The clump of leaves left a delicate trail of sensation across his chest, snaking down towards his stomach then out across his thighs without once alighting on the place that most yearned to be touched. Then her fingers raked through his hair, pulling awkwardly at tangles and making him wince as she groomed him with her claws. Breathing deeply, Leon tasted the scent of Iylla’s arousal in the air. The musk of her body was a perfume he loved above all others, and the fragrance of it left his senses reeling. Opening his eyes, he took the time to simply look at her, from the dark feathers covering her scalp, down her forehead to her golden eyes and upturned nose. Her lips were pressed firmly together with concentration, the muscles in her shoulders and arms rippled as she moved. He admired her small, firm breasts and her darkening nipples. There had never been another creature in all the forest so compelling as she, he felt. Leon pressed the fingertips of one hand against the smooth warmth of her thigh. The feel of her skin was alluring, compelling, inspiring him to touch more of it. As though moving with a will of their own, his fingers slid along the inside of her leg, drawn to the point where thigh melted into torso. She was wet beneath his fingers, her sex engorged with blood and flowering at his touch. He brushed lightly over those petal-like folds, but his fingers could not rest there. The trail of slick enticement called to him, and he followed gladly, sliding a long digit into her warm depths. Once the finger was all the way in, and his palm cupped her mound, he raised his eyes to meet hers. Iylla’s lips were slightly parted, and her eyes gleamed with passion. Her smiles were like some subtle force acting upon his skin, giving him a sense of wholeness and pleasure unlike any other. He could bask in the light of her gaze, in the heat of her desire. Leon had no desire to move or speak, he simply wanted this perfect moment of connection to last. When Iylla spoke, it was not to break the spell, but to begin a new level of enchantment. “That feels so good,” she said. 151

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He pressed a little firmer against her, his thumb reaching for the tender spot he had found on the outside of her body. She shifted slightly, opening her legs a little wider for him. Leon needed little encouragement. He massaged her with his fingers, alert to every change in her body and watching the complex variations of expression on her face. The art of giving her pleasure absorbed him completely, and although desire buzzed in him, his thoughts were ruled entirely by her needs. Each sign that she was transported by his efforts gave Leon a profound sense of satisfaction. Iylla was, he thought, at her most lovely when her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen as they were now. Although he had barely given them any attention at all, her nipples stood out from her breasts, dark morsels of flesh that made him feel hungry. Leaning down, he took one between his lips, running his tongue over the tip before suckling her hard. “I want you,” Iylla said, her breath warm against his ear. He gave her nipple one final lick, then straightened his back. Meeting her eyes, he did not need to ask what exactly she wanted. He knew. He pushed her down onto the ground, and guided his rigid cock into her already trembling cunt. She quivered around him, gripping and pulsing at his rod with eager muscles. It would be so easy to lose himself in her, but he struggled to delay the moment, and managed to stay in control. Awareness of her warmth and slickness overpowered all other sensation. Leon closed his eyes, deep in blissful concentration as he drew his hips back for the first thrust. He slid in, submerging himself to the hilt once more, feeling Iylla raise her hips to meet his. The urge to pound and race, thrusting out the heat of lust and rushing towards satisfaction was colossal. Leon had learned enough to know that quick release was a poor thing compared to pleasures won over a longer time. Iylla might come repeatedly, but he could not. The longer he could last, the greater heights of orgasm he could carry his lover to. He maintained a slow and steady rhythm, listening to Iylla’s laboured breathing and feeling the changes in her body that heralded her coming. The quivering of her sex became intense. Iylla bucked beneath him, her cries filling his ears as she wriggled and thrashed. Leon felt as though he was riding the currents of her release, his balls aching with a sympathetic pleasure like the shadow of an orgasm. He did not dare open his eyes and look into her face, knowing that if he saw her expression, he would be unable to contain himself. As she grew still, he stopped, allowing them both to rest for a while. The urgent pressure towards ejaculation faded a little, but his cock continued to pulse. After a short while, he began the cycle again, carrying Iylla into release, but delaying his own gratification by force of will. By the third time he had made her shake and moan, Leon’s balls ached and his cock was so acutely sensitive that each thrust gave him a sanity-stealing rush of feeling. He wanted to own her 152

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utterly, at least for the few pure moments of orgasm. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, to hold her and cling to her as they rocked together. “Don’t hold back lover,” she gasped, “I need you to come for me.” He kissed her face, neck and shoulders, tasting the salt on her skin where she had sweated for him. Then he raised himself up, arching his back so that he could look down at her. Iylla’s large eyes were wider and more luminous than ever. Her hands wandered around his waist, then rested on his hips. This time Leon allowed himself to go a little faster. He could see from the look of concentration on Iylla’s face, that she appreciated this. The pressure built, becoming hotter and more explosive with every stroke. The final flood began as a trickling feeling in the pit of his stomach that worked its way down his torso and plunged like a raging river into his balls. Then it surged up through him, pulsing, spasming and heaving, a surge of the most exquisite sensation he had ever known. It gushed from him, leaving a searing trail through his body, as though his entire spirit was leaping forth in that liquid fire to mingle with Iylla’s arching, trembling body. He could feel her coming around him as she milked every last drop from his shuddering body. For a moment it seemed as though there was nothing else in the world. There was only this awareness, this most consuming, overwhelming expression of love, melting through body and psyche alike. A blinding flash of pure communion and connection, it was gone all too soon and Leon felt as though he was tumbling to the earth from a great height. Then her feathers were against his cheek, and he was crying, but he did not know why. She held him, and he felt the delicate drip of her tears on his skin, and knew that she understood. **** It was late in the day when they took wing. Leon and Iylla had both needed time just to lie together, sharing silently the aftermath of an experience that had changed them both. They had no language capable of expression what had happened, and no way of discussing its significance to them, but they also knew that there was no need for such words. It had been enough simply to live through those moments, and afterwards, nothing more was required than to lie together, close and still as life in the forest continued around them. It was with considerable reluctance that the lovers eventually pulled themselves from this trance and made preparations to travel. The forest sprawled beneath them, and Iylla began to see things that struck her as familiar. She could not specifically remember having seen them before, but sometimes the shape of an exposed rock, or the twist in one of the many streams would make her 153

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think that perhaps she had encountered them once before. From the air, it was hard to be certain of anything on the ground; it all looked so very different from above. The sun was low in the sky, colouring the clouds with pinks and strains of gold, when they saw the clearing. It was such a vast area, denuded of trees, such that it was evident from afar. Iylla did not remember Silla’s camp being anything like so big, and wondered at first if they had found some other group of people. There were no obvious signs of life, no plumes of smoke, or signs of movement. The devastation was distressing. A large gash had been made in the forest, with countless trees felled, making an ugly hole in an otherwise beautiful landscape. The sight of it disturbed Iylla, and left her feeling as though she too had been violated by this ravaging. Sweeping across the barren and desolate place, she soon saw signs of habitation, but it was obvious no one had lived here for a while. There were bodies all over the place, rotting where they had fallen. Most of the bones had been picked over by scavengers, and there was little to distinguish one ruined form from another. Iylla thought about Dray’s horde of new beings, and Silla’s many companions. She might have good friends amongst the dead, but she would never know it. Leon alighted beside her, and they sat together on the sturdy trunk of a fallen tree, surveying the scene. Questions and anxieties thundered through her thoughts until she could bear it no longer. Taking off again, she made a slow circuit of the camp. Most of the shelters had been broken down, but one by one she found familiar places, the bone pile, the fire pit, the tiny shelter she had shared with Silla and Vin. There were no signs of any of them. Iylla landed and pulled off her mask, needing to look with her own eyes at this brutalised landscape. Her stay here seemed so very distant, as though it was a story, told to her by someone else. The passage of time since then could be reckoned in days, but so much had happened. Coming back to this place made Iylla realise just how much she had changed and grown. “Have you found something?” Leon asked. She had not noticed him land or shift his form, and the intrusion of his voice into her thoughts startled her. “Only a place I spent a while in once before. This was Silla’s camp, but there is no trace of them.” “It looks as though Dray’s plan has worked,” he said. “It does,” she said, but the observation gave her no joy. “I wondered if they all died here?” she added. “Given the state of the dead, there’s no knowing. There seem to be a lot though.” “What if some of them are still alive?” 154

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“They’ve gone from here by the looks of it.” “I have to know,” Iylla said. “If any of them survived, of Silla’s people or my own, I have to try and find them.” “Why?” The question surprised her. It had seemed such an obvious course of action that at first she could see no way of articulating her motives. “There are people I care for, and if there is any chance they are alive, I need to find them.” “They are important to you,” he said quietly. “Of course they are.” “Then that is all that matters.” There was something odd in his tone and it forced Iylla to think carefully. “Aside from me, is there anyone you care for Leon?” “I don’t think so.” “I care for these people. It’s not like how I feel for you, but it is important.” She watched him for some sign that he understood. He looked away from her. “I have a lot to learn.” “So do I,” she said. “Now, I want to look around and see if I can see any sign of survivors.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

When he became a continual presence, Quin could not have said. She heard the voice of the Blessed Sun continually now, his thoughts overlapping with her own until she hardly knew who she was anymore. There were a handful of her people still with her. She recognised their faces, but somehow most of their names had fallen through the many cracks in her mind. It did not matter especially. They lived to serve, as did she. The cold and an absence of food cleared her mind of mortal concerns, stripping away everything in her nature that was trivial and unnecessary. She was a vessel, pared down the barest essentials. Bones stood out through her skin, making ridges at points around her shoulders. Quin no longer felt hunger, she was beyond such bodily wants and weaknesses. The fiery determination of the Blessed Sun sustained her. We must find the heart of the forest. We must fight the great evil that lives there and triumph over it. His voice was never far from her thoughts, always pushing her onwards, even though she no longer understood what they were doing. “There is something strange ahead,” Trist said, hurrying to Quin’s side. “Show me.” Quin leaned on the girl’s arm, wondering why she had so little strength and supposing it was part of the forest’s curse. Before her, a large grassy bank rose out of the forest. It stretched away in either direction, becoming lost in the undergrowth. It looked like some sort of rampart, but it was so overgrown she supposed it must be long out of use. The slope was steep, and she had to use her hands to climb it. The short grass felt peculiar to the touch, it seemed to hum a low vibration and touching it made Quin uneasy. Climb. Ignore these doubts, they mean nothing. Quin climbed, although her feet cramped and her hands were shot through with darts of pain. At the top of the slope, she saw a broad, flat expanse, stretching to right and left, and more than her height across. On the far side, it sloped down into the forest again. It did not take her long to understand that this was a path. “Come on,” she called to her followers. 156

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They looked at each other. She could see cowardice in their faces. “Do none of you have any loyalty left in your hearts? Are you all selfish fools who will not serve your God?” Trist stepped forwards, her young face pale and thin from days of deprivation. Quin’s followers had dwindled since their escape from the fight, slipping away by night. Quin did not care in the slightest what happened to them. They were too weak to do their duty and therefore their fate was of no consequence. Trist alone had the will to join her, and Quin felt a moment of pride in her student. “Are you coming?” she demanded of those who remained. One by one, they turned from her and walked away. Quin spat at their departing backs. Without being asked, Trist offered Quin an arm, and the two set off. The trees closed in around them, screening either side of the pathway so that they could see no sign of the forest beyond. Even as they walked steadily onwards, the continual presence of the flanking trees created the impression that they made no progress at all. “What is this place?” Trist asked, her childish voice almost swallowed up by the pressing silence. “It is the way to the heart of the forest,” Quin said, echoing the words the Blessed Sun whispered through her thoughts. She had seen this place in a vision long ago, but could recall nothing beyond that. “What will we find there?” “An evil that we must destroy.” Trist’s fingers tightened around Quin’s arm in an unconscious gesture of fear. Quin was glad to find that the girl did not complain or argue – she accepted and did her duty. Those who lost their courage were not fit to serve, unworthy of the honour the Blessed Sun bestowed upon them. Quin hoped they died in the forests to be claimed by whatever malevolent forces collected souls in this place. At her side, Trist began shivering, and it was not long before Quin could hear the girl’s teeth chattering. It might be fear, or cold, there was no telling. The gnarled athro felt neither, but had no words of comfort to offer her one remaining follower. From the ache in her legs, Quin thought they had walked for a long time, but nothing changed. Looking back she saw the straight path and its trees, reaching in an unbroken line for as far as they eye could see. It was a maddening prospect. Quin wanted to run, but her body was too weary for such efforts. When she could go no further, she sank to the ground. Walk. 157

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The emaciated woman tried to stand, but found she could not. She cried out in anger and frustration. Trist tried to help her to her feet, but the girl was exhausted herself and lacked the strength. “It is no good,” Quin was forced to admit. “I can go no further.” She lay her head down upon the short grass, and fell quickly into a heavy sleep. Quin dreamed that she was in a maze. The walls were made up of trees. She could not find any turnings, but she knew there must be some. Her path took her round in circles, because she could not see any way to leave it. When she woke her pulse raced and she was shaking with frustration. Sitting up she saw things had changed while she slept. There was a break in the trees on one side of the path. Looking out, she noticed a squat, red-barked tree beside a rock, and a fallen branch that looked very familiar indeed. Trist opened her eyes and looked around, an expression of miserable acceptance settling over her features. “It was just a big circle,” she said, “we just walked round in a big circle.” The girl cried silent tears as Quin considered their situation. There had been no such break in the trees when they stopped to rest. The forest was playing tricks on them. “How do I find the way?” she asked, remembering her dream. No answer came. This disturbed her more than the forest ever could. “Where are you my lord?” she asked aloud. The trees around her remained deathly still and silent. There was no sound at all, no reassuring voice offering all the answers she would need. Looking up at the sky, she could see only pale, diffuse light and no sign of the Blessed Sun at all. “Where have you gone?” she cried again, “why will you not speak to me?” Still there was no answer. Quin considered her options carefully. She did not know why her God had forsaken her, or if he might return. She had no idea what had happened on the path or why she now appeared to be exactly where she had started. No matter how she sought them, she could find no answers that would guide her through these difficulties. “What are we to do?” Trist asked. Quin saw hope in the girl’s eyes, and knew it to be misplaced. Should they try again, or give up the quest? “They are testing our courage,” she said. “We must press on and try harder to find our true way.” Trist nodded, accepting Quin’s words. There was no change in the light to suggest any passage of time. Trist carried a little water, and they shared it, but when it was gone there was nothing to quench the 158

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dreadful thirst that occupied Quin’s every thought. When their bodies protested too greatly against further exertion, they rested, and woke to find themselves returned once more to the red tree, the rock and the branch. It was as much as Quin could do to stand. Her senses reeled, and it seemed to her as though there were many paths branching out before her, all going in different directions. One would lead to the heart of the forest, but she no longer remembered why she had to go there. How could she tell which was the one true path, and which would lead her astray? She did not know. Quin had the horrible feeling that no matter which way she chose, it would lead her back to this spot in time. The only way out was to climb back down the grassy slope. Quin started walking, her pace slow as she staggered from foot to foot. She had no idea when it was that Trist slipped away. She turned to look at trees she was certain mocked her, and realised the girl had gone. Quin felt no surprise, only bitter fatigue. She kept walking, wondered if she had turned inadvertently and was now going back the way she had come. It was impossible to tell. The road was the same and unrelenting no matter whether you went one way or another. There were no turnings to take, and nothing changed, save for the process of decay in her own body. Quin walked, because there was nothing else to do. The process of moving from one foot to the other became ever more demanding. When she could keep to her feet no longer, she crawled. She did not mean to lie down, but found she could move no more. Quin lay still, able to hear nothing beyond her slowing, sluggish heart beat. Her mouth was dry and her skull thrummed with pain. Opening her eyes, she managed to raise her head a little. There were so many roads: Some shone with divine light while others were shrouded in mist or shadows. So many roads to choose between. If only she could find the way. She rose to her feet, surprised to find that the pain had gone from her limbs. She felt light on her feet and refreshed as though she had slept for a week and nourished her starved body with good food. The way before her was clear – a narrow road illuminated by a golden light. She could see the trees soon petered out, and beyond were the sweeping plains of her childhood home. The quest for the forest’s heart had vanished from her mind, and in its stead came an urge to follow this softly glowing way. Quin stepped forwards, moving easily into the light. She did not notice how much of herself she left behind. The ruined husk on the dark road no longer mattered to her. She abandoned it without a second thought.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

There were several deep indents in the rock a little way above the river. They were too small to be caves, but penetrated the rock far enough to provide considerable shelter. The woods along the riverside teemed with life, and the place seemed ideal for an encampment. Silla wandered lazily along the river bank. She had spent the morning thigh deep in water, using her spear to catch the larger, slower fish. Now the fires were lit, she could smell their meat slowly baking, and her mouth watered a little. Her two remaining children splashed happily in the shallows, laughing at each other and making hopeless attempts at taking their own fish. The sound of their amusement lifted her heart fleetingly, but then she fell to wondering what had become of her firstborn. That morning she had woken with the feeling that he had walked her dreams, but she could not remember anything specific. If he was dead, I would know it, surely? I would feel it, and I do not. My son lives. My son must live. With so many dead, it appeared to be an irrational thought, but she clung to it. Silla had too many friends to mourn as it was, without having to admit that Charn might be gone forever. She found Vin working a point onto a stave. He looked up, sweat dripping from his brows. “What are you doing?” “Fashioning something lighter. There’s a good deal of game up in the trees, but its no good trying to throw a spear that high, the tips pull them down too soon.” Silla nodded. She had seen plenty of birds in the branches above, but had known better than to cast her spear after them. Mostly likely such a course of action would bring the weapon down on her own head. Vin held the stave up and considered the point, then turned it in his hands a few times. “This might do.” 160

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He ran a few paces, then threw his newly made weapon high. It soared up into the branches, and arced down again. “If you could hit something with it, it might work,” she said, teasing him. “It will take some learning to use, but if you are so wise my Silla, you show me how it should be done.” Silla took the stave from him, and balanced it in her hand. It was lighter by far than the spear she normally wielded, and did not have the heavy stone tip. Drawing her arm back above her shoulder, Silla wondered how it would fly. She threw, but her effort did not send the wood gliding high into the air. It rose a little way, then came down again. “Were you aiming for anything in particular?” Vin asked, unable to suppress a smile. “I’ll aim it at you next if you aren’t careful,” she retorted. “In that case I don’t have anything much to worry about.” Silla growled, and kicked out at his legs. Vin dodged and caught her around the middle, tussling with her until they landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. His mouth found her neck. As the day was warm, Silla had left off the skin she often wore around her shoulders. Her breasts were exposed, and his hands soon closed over their warmth. As a girl she had been almost flat chested, but motherhood had given her enough curves to fill his palms. Some of the women had breasts that hung down as far as their stomachs, but Silla’s had never distended so far, of which she was glad. When Vin put his lips to her rising nipples, she felt as alive and desirable as she had in her youth. She was strong and capable, firm of body and clear of eye. What did it matter that she had seen more summers than he? Most of the time it was a detail that she gave no thought to at all. Vin’s lips moved lightly over her nipples, but it was enough to draw them out, sensitive and blood-filled. He glanced up from his work, eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. Silla gathered her senses, and turned so that they were lying side by side. Her fingers strayed over the clearly defined muscles on his chest. She loved to watch the way they shifted as he moved. He might be a physically strong young man, but in her hands he was powerless. Silla was quite aware that her youthful lover had never been able to resist her touch, and the slightest brush from her fingers could send him into a frenzy. He might be generous with his favours to others from time to time, but ever since the first time she had run a nail down his chest, he had always come back to her for more. Silla knew she could give him something others could not. What that was precisely she had yet to determine, but the effects of it were all too apparent. 161

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“Why me?” she asked. It was a question she had posed before, but his answers always intrigued her. “Because you have the light of the small moon in your eyes, fire in your heart, and,” he said, pausing for effect, “what looks suspiciously like river mud in your hair.” Since striking from the ruins of their old life, they had given up spiking their hair. It took too long to do, and there was seldom anything to spare that could be used. Silla was still getting used to how different they all looked with short locks falling around their faces. It softened them somehow. Vin ran his fingers through her muddy tresses. “I prefer your hair this way,” he said, “I had not realised hair could be so sensual, so alluring.” “So full of mud,” she interjected. “That too.” Silla wriggled closer, pressing her body along the length of his, and wrapping one leg around him. The animal skin she had fastened loosely around her waist only a little while earlier fell open, exposing her sex to his questing hand. He took the accident as invitation, and rubbed his palm across her mound. Silla thought fleetingly about how exposed they were, and decided she didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in her small party caught someone else having sex, she’d done it herself only a couple of days previously. Having realised her presence went unnoticed, she had stayed to watch for quite some time. What men did for each other fascinated her, and aroused her. Remembering it made her slick with desire. “Have you ever gone with a man?” “A few times, but not recently,” Vin said. “Why?” “I’d like to watch you with another man.” “Would you now?” His finger probed her slit as they talked. “Would you let me watch?” “I’d let you do anything you wanted, you know that.” His finger eased into her, the tip finding her g-spot and paying it the attention it so urgently needed. Silla groaned with satisfaction. She had been tense and frustrated for days and there had been no chance to do anything about it. “You like that?” “You know I do.” He covered her mouth with his, lapping at her lips with his tongue, then sliding into her mouth and letting her suck on him. Silla could feel the heat rising in her body, and the pressure built. 162

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Don’t let anyone find us just yet. Don’t let anything disturb us. She wasn’t entirely sure who the prayer was directed to, but she could not bear to be thwarted this time, she had to have him. Vin relinquished her mouth and returned his attention to her nipple. Between the action of his tongue and the insistent movement of his finger, she could think of little else. “Oh have me,” she pleaded. He raised his head, and she could see the lust in his dark eyes. “I will my beauty, don’t you worry about that.” His finger accelerated within her, causing her to squirm and gasp. “Please!” she croaked, her hands fumbling awkwardly for his cock. He pulled away then and stood to unfasten his attire. When he knelt at her side, Silla could see the full majesty of his erection. “You want this?” he asked, holding it in his hand and raising the head towards her. Silla lost no time in getting him in her mouth. She was burning with the need to be taken, but even so she could not resist tasting him first. “Enough games,” Vin said. Silla knew her lover’s need matched her own. He was wider than ever as he pushed down into her, igniting her already aroused flesh. In just a few strokes, she was clinging to him, her body shaking with the first waves of orgasm. Vin didn’t stop, even though her breath came in sobs and she swamped him with incoherent pleas. Her fingers raked his body, pressing into his firm flesh, sliding from time to time where sweat made them both slippery. When she kissed his shoulders, he tasted of salt, river and forest. The place was starting to get under their skins and become part of them, she realised. Visions of watching him with another man flickered through her mind, postures of pure indulgence, gasps of surprise and shudders of orgasm. While she thought none of the men in their company were quite equal to him for looks, there were a few she would be happy to watch giving Vin pleasure. There never seemed to be enough time for such erotic pursuits. Imagination carried her to new heights and she began to shiver again as Vin made her come once more. Still he continued to thrust and press against her. “I want you to come with me,” Vin gasped. Silla was incapable of answering him verbally, but as soon as she felt him stiffen and plunge deeper, her body replied in its own language. Closing her eyes, she felt herself strain, push at the brink of sensation, and then fall slowly, like the stave arcing down from the branches. She was tumbling down, falling into herself, utterly aware of him but 163

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never so conscious of the divide between them. They were two separate souls, each locked in a unique experience, sharing but never truly the same. When it was over, and her body raced with feelings of relief and well-being the momentary vision of isolation faded. Nestling against him, it seemed nonsensical. This was not something Silla wanted to dwell upon, and she did not know what had prompted her to feel that way. She rested her head on Vin’s chest, listening to his heart beat, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed. Such moments of serenity were rare, and she wanted to draw every last moment of happiness from it. “Attack!” Rill’s voice cut through the quiet of the forest. Silla leapt to her feet and started running. She was naked and unarmed, but her father had called out in need and she would not delay for a moment. Most of her people were either in the woods, or the river. There were only a few figures near to the rocky shelter. Silla saw a being that looked like a composite of mud and leaves, with freakishly long hands that even now reached for her father’s throat. Spear in hand, Rill held the creature at bay. A second one appeared, and Silla was not sure where it had come from. Her father shifted his stance, trying to defend himself. Fin and Trian appeared to still be in the river, and she hoped they had the good sense to keep themselves hidden. Silla’s spear was in the cave. There was no getting it without going passed the assailants. Her bundle of possessions remained near the fire, where she had left them. Use me. It was more a compulsion than a voice. She dropped down and reached for the slender twig that lay amongst her few things. One of the attackers noticed her, and a third hove into view. One narrow stick, blunt and no longer than her forearm seemed a pathetic defence. Glancing back, she saw Vin had his new throwing stick, and was preparing to launch it at a fourth figure who had appeared while she looked the other way. Silla ran forward to aid her father. The wand in her hand seemed to sing as she went, and calm certainty settled over her. She was well enough armed, it would suffice. She brought the finger of wood crashing down on the first attacker’s chest. The finger of wood should have shattered, but did not. Instead, the blunt end sank in as though the flesh it touched was nothing more than the mud it resembled. The figure collapsed, crumbling in upon itself. A shriek escaped the parted lips, but it was the only protest the man could make. Silla was shocked, and for a moment, she could not act. The wand began its seductive singing again, and she could not help but dance to its tunes. Again the wood struck home. 164

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Only when the last of their assailants lay dead, did Silla realise her father was bleeding. The wand in her hands lay silent. She had feared its hunger for blood might know no limits, but it would not turn her upon her own people, and for that she was grateful. She hurried to Rill. He was cut badly in several places. Can you not heal as well as kill? she silently asked the wood. It offered no answer, but she had expected none. There was nothing nearby to staunch the wounds. Silla used her hands to apply pressure, all the while shouting instructions at Vin, and calling out to the rest of her small company. At last Fenny was at her side, her hands working quickly over Rill’s reddened skin. Silla took her father’s hand and held it tightly. His eyes were still clear and lucid, but from the twist of his mouth, she knew he was in great pain. Looking at her father, Silla realised how old he was. It was something she seldom though about, taking him for granted as one of the few reliable forces in her life. He had always been there and she had never considered that he might one day leave her. In her childhood, his hair had been dark brown, but now only a few strands of that colour remained true, while the rest had faded into greys and silvers. His skin was deeply lined, his arms dotted with countless tiny scars. The hand she held so tightly in her own was gnarled like an old tree, but remained strong. Silla said nothing as she watched her friend work upon her father’s body. His blood soaked the ground, and the tang of it filled her nose and mouth. She wanted to cry like a frightened child, to howl and demand that this be put right, but she kept silent. Rill was a proud man and she would not make a spectacle of herself, mourning him while there was still some hope that he could live. Gentle hands touched her shoulders, then she felt the familiar weight of her pelt as Vin wrapped it about her. Silla only then noticed she was shivering, and that a cold sweat ran in rivulets down her back. One hand gripped her father, as though if she held him tightly enough, he could not slip away. In her other hand was the slender twig that had wrought so much destruction. Fenny looked up, her attention focused on Rill. “You might live,” she said, “you might not. Right now that’s the best I can do.” “Thank you Fenny,” he croaked. “The wound isn’t deep. I don’t think it has damaged anything vital. If I am wrong, you will die in a day or so, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” “I know that girly,” he said, his voice a little stronger. “It’s a big gash and you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll try to stop it getting infected, but again…” “I’m glad of your help Fenny. I won’t haunt you, if the worst comes to the worst.” 165

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He smiled at his remark, and Silla looked away, blinking the tears from her eyes. “Now,” he said, “can I have a look at that stick of yours?” Silla handed it over, and waited to hear what her father would say about the peculiar weapon.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Iylla wished she had made two krask hound masks at first. As a pair of medries, they could soar above the trees all too easily, but it gave them little insight into what happened beneath the shade of those great trees. The medri form was ill suited to flying low. Wearing the hound mask made it easier to see and smell the tracks of other creatures. The forest teemed with them. A lot of time had passed, and there had been rains, obliterating most footprints. Their own eyes could see few clues, but the hound mask revealed a world of scents, smells and subtle signs. However, with only one able to wear the form of a hound, they could only use one set of those incomparable senses at any time. They made a slow circuit around the decimated camp, looking for signs of those who had departed. There were odd clues suggesting perhaps not everyone had died in that bloody conflict. However, there was no distinguishing between the different trails, no knowing if any of these fleeing groups represented friends or enemies. Frustration gnawed at Iylla, making her angry and unhappy in turn. She had thought herself so close to finding her friends, but the trail was desperately cold. In the end she chose the tracks that appeared the clearest. Enough people had left together to have churned up the ground, their feet cutting a distinctive path through the undergrowth. She could not tell how long ago they had passed this way, but could think of nothing better to do than follow them. She and Leon took turns with the masks - one undertaking to be the hound and scouting about for signs of those they followed, while the other carried their few possessions, rolled into the duffet pelt and slung across one shoulder. Spending long hours as a medri was easy enough once you got used to it. By contrast, being a krask hound was tremendously difficult. The sheer volume of sensory information was exhausting and neither could stand it for extended periods. Even taking turns, it grated upon their nerves in the extreme. It was apparent that the people they followed had not fled at great speed. This escaping company had made frequent camps, and from the bones left behind, appeared to have been hunting. The presence of sooty, charcoal covered circles told Iylla these were 167

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Silla’s people, not her own. For all she knew, they might be the very ones who had sought to destroy her, but still she pressed on. The need to know what had happened outweighed every other impulse. Iylla was confident that they were moving far quicker than those they pursed, and that in a matter of days they might catch this band of Sillians. She wasn’t quite sure which of them coined the term first, but she and Leon adopted it rapidly. Whoever these makers of fire were, they were Sillains, Silla’s people. It made it easier to think about them somehow. With each day as they closed the gap, the trail became easier to follow, and there were times when neither needed to wear the mask. It felt good to walk in their own skins, reclaiming their usual shapes and sensations. The trail brought them down a steep ravine, to a valley that wove between hills. A river ran along the valley floor, smooth and quiet as it slid between muddy banks. Out in the waters, Iylla caught sight of a large dark head, bobbing on the surface. She paused to watch for a while, and the creature in the water gazed back, curious and impassive. “Do you know what that is?” she asked. Leon squinted at the watcher in the river and smiled. “An emery,” he said. “It won’t harm us so long as we leave it be.” The head slipped quietly beneath the surface. Iylla watched for a while, wondering if it would come up for air, or if it could breath the water as fish do. As there was no sign of it, she continued on her way, watchful for other forest creatures who might pose them a threat. “I can smell smoke,” she said only a little while later. She stopped again, wondering how best to proceed. Then a knowing smile crept across her face. “Would you wait here, I want to have a look,” she said. Unrolling the duffet pelt, she retrieved a dark and mottled mask. The forest was not very dense along the riverside, but she thought it would give her cover enough so long as she was careful. Pulling the mask on, Iylla felt herself folding down into a smaller form. Her arms tucked in against her body, becoming short wings that would not allow her to fly very far at all. Her mouth jutted forwards, hardening into a beak, and she felt the familiar rustle of feathers covering her entire body. She scuttled forward as quickly as these short legs would allow. The bird could not see terribly well, or very far, but its hearing was good. The trick appeared to be run a little way, then freeze and listen hard for sounds of movement, then run again. Nothing would spot her easily, and she could easily evade anyone who proved hostile. It was not long before Iylla’s bird form could make out the sounds of voices. Nervous anticipation urged her onwards, but she forced herself to remain wary and 168

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watchful. She did not want to end up roasting before a fire. Creeping along the edge of a bush, she finally saw her quarry. She saw it was a modest camp, its presence making little impact on the forest. These Sillians had evidently learned not to be so destructive. There was a man wrapped in skins who sat beside a smouldering fire. Iylla could not make out much beyond his shape, through the short-sighted eyes she had borrowed. Another figure came up from the river, carrying a fish. Something about the way he moved struck her as familiar. He spoke a few words of greeting to the man lying down, and then she knew him. Her heart sang within her. Iylla scrabbled at her mask, finding her short legs and stubby talons barely equal to the job. At last it came off and she unravelled into her true self once more. Looking with her own eyes, she could see the man perfectly. Vin was as tall and strong as she remembered him, his skin a golden brown. When she last saw him, his hair had been spiky. Now it hung around his shoulders, much like Leon’s. She could see the scars on his face and chest, and remembered how they had been attacked. He looked as good as ever, with his borrowed skins and his wicked smile. The temptation was too great, and she called out his name. “Vin!” Hearing her voice, he turned sharply. Recognition brought a wide smile to his face. Seeing him rekindled in Iylla all the passion she previously felt for this man. She had not dared to hope they would meet again. He hurried to her and in a moment she was in his arms, swept of her feet and pressed against his chest. He said nothing. His hands on her skin and his mouth covering hers spoke clearly enough. Iylla felt giddy and careless, allowing herself to be aroused and adored by this most delectable male. The smell of him was so familiar, the feeling of his body against hers a pleasure. “Is Silla here?” she asked at last, half afraid of the answer. “She is still by the river, come.” He took her hand and together they ran down the short path to the water. Iylla clutched her mask in her hand and laughed wildly as they went. She had never been so aware of the warmth of the sun on her skin, or of the sheer pleasure of being alive. Then she was in Silla’s arms, and the three of them were kissing each other. “You’re alive!” Silla exclaimed, repeating the observation as though she could barely believe it. Iylla kissed her into silence. “This must be a good omen,” Silla said. “I’ve been following you for days,” Iylla said, “I have so much to tell you.” “Are you alone?” Silla asked. 169

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“No. Leon is with me.” She had entirely forgotten about him, and the realisation sent a pang of guilt through her. “No others?” “No.” “Your people tried to kill mine. I lost a lot of friends.” There was anger and bitterness in Silla’s voice. Iylla found hard to offer an answer. “We were made to drive you out of the forest. The ones who attacked you had no choice. I am sorry for what has happened, but I could not have stopped it.” “Who sent you?” Silla asked. “Who is the power here?” “Dray sent me, but he is not the only power in the forest. I have met others.” She looked around, reaching for the right words. “You were harming the forest. I saw how great an area you cleared. Dray could not allow that. While you live like this, he will not send more against you.” “Will he not? We were attacked only a few days ago, and my father was grievously wounded.” “I don’t know anything about that. There are many powers in the forest.” Silla shook her head, and her expression softened. “I should not blame you. I know this was not of your doing. Come, sit with me and tell me about your travels.” “I should go and find Leon, I have been gone a long time and he will be worrying.” “Let’s all go,” Vin suggested, “I’m keen to see this man.” A knowing look passed between him and Silla, but Iylla could not decipher it. Leon was precisely where Iylla had left him, resting amongst tall plants that offered considerable cover. He leapt to his feet as the trio approached. Iylla waved to him. “I see that you found your people,” he said. “This is Silla,” Iylla explained, “and Vin.” They looked each other up and down. “Come and sit with us, we can share food and exchange stories,” Silla said. Leon followed, watching carefully. It was clear these two were more interested in Iylla than himself. He noticed the way they brushed against her from time to time. Iylla had not told him much about her time with them, but he began to wonder. She looked settled amongst them, as though they belonged together. He was unsure what to make of 170

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this. He could see something he was not part of, but that had been Leon’s experience of being for as long as he could remember. The intimacy of spirit he shared with Iylla was new to him. She was not, he realised, the sort of creature who could be kept or restricted. Her self possession was something he loved. Despite her origins, she had always managed to be her own creature, something he did not want to change. If these two moved her heart, he would honour that. This was the first time he had sat close beside a fire. When they occurred in the forest it was a sudden, ferocious force as lightening ignited a tree. Small fire, trapped in a circle of pebbles and giving off modest warmth was unfamiliar to him. He watched it cautiously for a while. They offered him meat that had been singed in the flames. He sampled it, trying these new flavours and noting how much softer the texture was. The man on the far side of the fire was dying, Leon could see that at a glance. He recognised the unhealthy sheen in the eyes, and the weariness that signified a creature would soon give up and exhale its last. “What ails you?” he asked, as much from curiosity as anything else. “I was attacked,” the man replied. “The cut isn’t deep, but it will not heal.” Leon nodded. He had no skill at all with injuries and could offer nothing. “I never dared to hope you would come back,” Silla was saying. Leon had not been following the conversation, but the tone of her voice caught his attention. She sounded as though she was suffering, but he had no idea why. “I am glad to see you again,” Iylla said. There was something in her voice too, something Leon had not heard before. It troubled him. There were currents beneath the flow of words, but he could not quite make them out. “Are you?” Silla asked. Leon saw her shoulders moved and guessed she had made some gesture unseen by him. Iylla smiled. “Yes,” she said, “very much so.” Silla turned then, glancing in Leon’s direction and offering him a friendly smile. Still his uneasiness remained. They talked then of the past days, of things they had seen, game they had hunted, dreams that had touched them. It was easy, familiar talk and Leon found himself drawn into it by slow degrees. He could understand why Iylla liked the company of such people, even though they were strange and unlike her in many ways. They were not part of the forest, but he could see its marks upon them. It was growing over and into them, much as a climbing plant might smother a fallen tree. They could be part of Estraguil with time, if 171

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they learned to hear its voices and respect its harmonies. That was something the Drays did not foresee. Gradually the light waned, and other Sillians returned, some with fish, others with meat, berries or leaves harvested from the forest’s bounty. Introductions were made, but he forgot their names all too quickly. They fed the fire with fallen wood, until the flames licked up, then cooked their meat on long sticks. Leon watched, fascinated by this process. He smelled the aromas of cooking flesh and found his mouth watered in anticipation of tasting such food. “You will eat with us,” Silla said. It was not a question, but a statement. It was companionable to share food, watching the crackle of bright flames as fat dripped into the fire. Leon listened to the chatter of others. Much of it seemed trivial to him, but these, he realised were affirming rituals that held them together. They exchanged stories, reaffirming their connections and mutual care. They passed food to each other, and laughed easily. He wondered what it would be like to be part of such a thing, to share in the habits of conversation that united people. He might sit within their circle, but Leon was all too conscious that he was separate from the others, an interloper in their company. He watched Iylla. She was clearly more accustomed to this than he, but there were hints of wariness in the way she moved, and it told him she too felt herself to be separate from the others. Leon was glad of that. When the darkness beyond the firelight was thick and impenetrable, Silla offered them a space in one of their shelters. “We usually sleep in the open,” Leon said quietly. It was the first time he had addressed the woman. Iylla bit her lip, conflict evident in her face. “We will be all right here,” she said. “We don’t feel the cold as you do.” “Oh.” He thought Silla sounded disappointed. They departed rapidly however, taking the sick man with them. Soon Leon and Iylla were alone with the smouldering embers, the duffet pelt pulled tight around them and their bodies close entwined against the chill of the night. “You were tempted to go with them,” he said at last. Iylla sighed. “They were both my lovers once. Vin was my first.” “Ah.” “They wanted both of us to stay with them. They like you.” Leon considered her words for a long time. 172

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“I don’t know them,” he said, “they do not speak to my soul. I would not want that sort of intimacy.” She made no answer, and so he continued. “If they are precious to you, go to them. You do not have to be bound by my inclinations. I could see how much they draw you.” “It’s all right.” “You do not need to deny yourself for me,” he pressed. “Please Iylla, do what gives you joy, I will be happy in that.” He felt her lips press against his mouth. “Thank you,” she said. He expected her to move away then, but she stayed still. “Aren’t you going?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because it would be the wrong thing to do. I do love these people, but I cannot stay here with them. They care for me, but they have their own ways, they do not need me. My own people are out there somewhere, and they do need me. I know it, I can’t tell you how. I have to find them. If I go to Vin and Silla, it will be so much harder to leave them again afterwards.” “I think I understand.” “And then,” Iylla added, “much as I love them, I choose to stay here, with you.” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know.” “I have to find the others, if they are still alive,” she said, returning to a previous point without warning. “Illyans,” he said. “What?” “Silla’s people are Sillians. Your people will have to be Illyan because it doesn’t quite work otherwise.” Iylla pressed her face against his shoulder and dug her fingers into his back, clinging to her lover as they lay together in the darkness. “We will find then,” he said. “You said you knew these would be Silla’s people. Why follow them so long if you do not mean to stay at least a little while?” “I needed to know who had survived, and there was always a chance they would have some news of my people.” “Do they?” 173

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“No. They do not know who else survived, much less where they might have gone.” “Why not stay a few days? It will make little odds.” “I am afraid that if I stay, I’ll never find the courage to leave again.” “You will,” he said.

**** After so many days travelling, remaining in one place felt like a peculiar luxury. Iylla and Leon splashed in the cool water of the river, as the children showed them how to use short spears for catching fish. Iylla was fast enough, and learned quickly. Silla and Vin were never far from her side. Their presence occupied her thoughts, and a troubling tension gripped her any time one of them drew near. The urge to move closer, to touch, and embrace grew stronger as the sun rose in the sky. She wanted to lie with them both, but feared what this might do to Leon. She understood that he needed her, and did not want to distress him. The four of them walked between the trees for a while, and Vin showed them how to hunt with a stave. He brought down several small mammals, and Iylla was impressed with his skill. Every move he made enticed her. Every smile threatened to prise her heart open. He was such a joy to watch, with his strong limbs and easy grace. It was hard to keep her eyes off him. They had fallen so easily into comfortable companionship that Iylla did not know how she would ever give them up again. She spoke, hoping that once it was said, the decision would be easier to see through. “I will not be able to stay here for long,” Iylla told the couple she desired. “Where will you go?” Vin asked, doing his best to hide his disappointment. “I don’t know yet,” Iylla said. “By now the other trails will have been washed away.” “Then how can you hope to find them?” Silla asked. “You cannot wander round just the two of you. It would be better if you stayed with us.” “We have ways,” Iylla said. She had not told either of these two about the masks, finding herself unwilling to share their mysteries and magic’s. “I’ve got to do this,” she added. “I wish I could stay with you, but I cannot.” “We may never see each other again if you go,” Vin pointed out. “I think we will,” Iylla told him. “Perhaps not for a while, but our paths will cross again.” Silla shook her head in disbelief. “Trust me,” Iylla said, smiling. “I can feel it.” 174

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Silla said nothing, but it was clear to Iylla she was fighting to maintain her composure. Iylla was grateful. Had the other woman wept or begged her to stay, she was not sure she could have held firm in her decision. Vin stepped closer then, wrapping his arms about her and drawing her small body against his strong chest. All hopes of resisting him melted away. Iylla raised her lips to meet his, trying to fix the moment in her mind in case her gut feeling was wrong. She did not want this to be the last time they held each other. All the while she was conscious of Leon’s eyes on her, and wondered what he thought of this passionate display. Then Silla’s hands were on Iylla’s hips, and kisses from a sweetly familiar mouth covered her skin. Iylla succumbed, unable to fight herself for any longer. Silla’s flesh was warm beneath her hands when she reached out to reciprocate. Her hair was soft now, and Iylla touched it, marvelling at how it had changed in their time apart. She brushed her lips against the fine strands, then, drawn by a force she could not resist, let her kisses stray over Silla’s cheeks, until at last their lips met. It was such a sweetly painful kiss, full of passion and the anguish of immanent parting. Iylla wished she could stay forever, to lie on this woman’s arms and forget her cares. It would be impossible to rest yet, and she knew it. There were others who needed her, and she had to find them, no matter how long it took. “Stay a few days, give us that much at least,” Silla implored. She looked directly at Leon. “What of you? What will you do if Vin and I want to make love to Iylla?” Her words made Iylla shiver. “I don’t know,” Leon replied. “I would like to watch I think.” Vin pulled Iylla back against him, his fingers caressing her throat, encouraging her to lean her head against his shoulder. He kissed her deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth and stirring her emotions into a giddy concoction. His hands easily covered her small breasts, and she could feel him growing hard against her back. Silla’s hands smoothed across her thighs and Iylla glanced down to see the other woman kneeling before her. At the same time, Vin’s fingers moved slowly against her swollen nipples heating Iylla’s entire body with flows of lust and need. Silla touched the crease between her thighs and cunt, and Iylla could feel herself seeping moisture. She felt so wet she was sure that at any moment, it would start to trickle down her legs. Instead, she felt Silla’s warm mouth close over her sex, licking at fluids and skin alike. For a while, Iylla closed her eyes. Vin’s strong arms held her up as her legs grew weak. His solid chest supported her head, and his hands worked tirelessly at her breasts. Silla’s tongue moved inside her for a while, exciting her and promising greater pleasures to 175

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come. Then her attention moved a little higher and she began licking insistently at Iylla’s already throbbing clitoris. Quite how Vin managed it, she could not have said. With one arm, he lifted her off the ground and with the other guided her down onto his shaft. Iylla arched her back, feeling him fill her. Only the tips of her toes touched the ground, providing no balance. Vin supported her weight on his arm. She reached back, wrapping her arms around Vin’s neck to give herself some feeling of stability. He held her firm. In this position, he could not thrust in and out of her, and she was unable to move. Silla set to work again, her tongue running back and forth over Iylla’s clit, making circles of sensation, drumming patterns of pleasure. Iylla moaned. With Vin’s cock deep inside her, the feelings she got from being licked were more intense than ever. Something stirred deep within her body, and Iylla knew she would have an orgasm of unusual ferocity. As the pressure built within her, Iylla opened her eyes. Leon was stood only a few feet from her, watching. He smiled as she looked at him, and knowing he was happy with what was happening allowed her to truly relax into the experience. His erection stood out from his lean body, proving beyond all doubt to her that he liked what he could see. She wished he was close enough that she could touch his swollen manhood. She wanted him to join in, to have him caress and explore these two who meant so much to her. Iylla longed to watch him balls deep in Silla’s body, or Vin’s for that matter. She wanted to watch him come with one of these two. That thought was enough to send her spiralling out of control and she came violently, with Leon’s name on her lips. Vin pulled out of her, his fingers rapidly replacing his cock, but not reaching so far into her pulsing depths. Still bracing her with one arm, he began to slowly finger fuck her. Iylla was so sensitized by the first round of play that she started to come almost at once. Vin’s efforts distracted her so that she did not see Silla approach Leon. The sound of their muted voices caught her as she rose from the disorientated bliss of coming. Silla was on her knees again, but this time before Leon, and although Iylla cold not see exactly what was happening, she could guess. From the rapturous look on Leon’s face, she imagined his straining cock must be finding some relief in Silla’s ever generous mouth. This realisation sent her spasming into a fresh wave of pleasure. Even though Leon’s comments of the previous night made him appear disinterested, it looked to Iylla as though he had succumbed to the erotic possibilities of the situation. She was relieved by this, wanting him to share in this part of her life as he did in all others. Iylla caught whispers of another brief conversation, then Silla turned her head, obviously very pleased with herself. “Vin my heart, you know what I want most.” 176

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“There will be more for you in a while if you want it,” he promised Iylla as he slipped his hand free from between her thighs. She followed Vin. Leon knelt down facing Silla. He looked a little nervous, but his skin was flushed with arousal and his eyes were bright. Iylla watched fascinated as Vin moistened his thumb and set to work on Leon’s ass. After a while she shifted so as better to see her soul-mate’s face as he experienced this new pleasure. She could tell it was turning him on. Without warning, his eyes flicked open and his entire body bucked. Iylla guessed this meant that he was now sampling the pleasures of Vin’s glorious cock. “Do you like it?” she asked him. “Yes,” he groaned. Iylla moved closer to Silla as they watched the men fucking. It was a captivating sight. They were both so very handsome, so fine of form and perfectly sensual. To watch one take the other was a feast for the eyes. It was a fantasy come true for Iylla, and despite having come numerous times already, she felt herself burning afresh with the need for pleasure. Soon her hands were roaming freely over Silla’s body again, and both were working themselves into an eager sweat. Mouths moved urgently over skin, bodies came together and slid apart, exchanging kisses and the salt tang of bodily fluids. Iylla was exhausted from pleasure, hardly able to think and utterly unwilling to stop. She watched each of them come in turn, and then come again, using her hands and lips wherever she could to add to their pleasure. She opened her legs first to take Vin back, and then again for Leon. At last when all four were utterly spent, they lay together, gazing up at the leaves blowing in the light breeze, each lost in private thoughts. How will I ever give them up? Iylla asked herself. A memory of Light’s face drifted into her consciousness, and such a strong feeling of being needed overcame her that she could barely breathe. How do I find you? she asked the image her mind had conjured. Somewhere in the vast expanse of Estraguil, her people were waiting for her return to them. Illyans. She felt the power of that name, and the responsibility of it. In a day or two, she must be on her way, but for now it was very sweet to linger, to steal this moment of utter satisfaction and to wallow in self indulgence.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

In the early dawn, the forest was at its most magical, with shades of gold touching the trees and the air alive with the many overlapping songs of birds. The canopy above was vibrant with life as the new day crept steadily over the horizon. Through a break in the tree, Light could see a pale blue sky streaked with pinks. No one else had woken yet and the private moment was something to relish and treasure. Branch was sleeping deeply. In repose, the marks of worry and sorrow were not scored so harshly into his skin and he looked more like his old self. The brutal requirements of life took an endless toll on him. Rain was in his arms, her smaller body curled against his bulk. There was some solace for both of them in sleep, Light thought. The growing light illuminated the other dreamers, the ones who had the will and courage to survive now that they had served their purpose. River and Sky, Moon, Leaf, Mist, Dawn, Midnight, Hunter, Dream and Swift all slept nearby. These Light could see easily. Each name had been long thought over and carefully bestowed. Each was a source of considerable pride. There were others, huddled together in twos and threes, all of whom had their own name now. Light did not have to look left to know who slumbered there. Jewel lay in the arms of a horned man, so painfully like Seed in every way that they could give him no other name. It disturbed Light every time the eerie male entered her field of vision. He was not their Seed, not the first Seed who had lost his life to predatory lizards. But still, this one was Seed as well. Light could find no way of making sense of it. The forest whispered in hushed tones in the early hours. Sometimes Light would climb a tree to see if either of the moons still glowed pale in the sky. Sometimes it was enough just to sit and listen, being aware of the forest and its countless inhabitants. It was never quite possible to make out the words, either they were too soft, or the language utterly foreign. Still, the sense that the forest spoke in its own secret tongues was hard to shake and Light liked the feeling that there were voices in the dawn. “Bring Iylla back to us,” Light whispered, adding a new murmur to the forest’s many voices. It seemed to Light that if only Iylla returned, they would know what to do and how to live. The thought was an irrational one, but it gave some glimmer of hope and 178

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Light clung to it for that reason. There was so much they did not know about how to live and be. They were obliged to find it out in long, slow ways for themselves, and it was hard indeed. Iylla had spent time amongst other people and Light was sure she would know how things should be done. Iylla would know what their lives were for, what they were supposed to do, how they should behave. Light had none of these answers. Sometimes, listening to the forest whispering, Light would find the tangle of confused thoughts unravel, and inspiration would come, offering small ways of making things better. If I could learn to understand it, perhaps the forest would tell me all the things I need to know. It is not enough just to exist. One by one, eyelids were caressed by the growing daylight, drawing the dreamers back from their nigh-time wanderings. Light felt the subtle whispers fading as the new day flourished in earnest and all around her sleepers roused themselves and greeted their companions. “Bring Iylla back to me,” Light mouthed, offering up this silent prayer to any power that might carry it through.

**** Somehow one day became two, and then three. Iylla’s need to go was strong, but equal to it was the power of attraction binding her to Vin and Silla. Just one more night, one more kiss, one more embrace. As she had feared, her resolve was dwindling. Life beside the river was easier than anything else she had known. Food was plentiful, there was shelter, companionship and no sign of any predators who might threaten them. Still the urge to move on pressed on her thoughts and Iylla wondered if there would ever be a time when she could surrender to tranquillity and beauty, without something pushing her back towards adversity. All was not perfect here though. On the second day, Rill became feverish. Only intermittently conscious, he sweated and groaned in his torment. Silla was seldom far from his side, worry painted clearly on her stooped posture. Lines that had previously been lightly etched in her skin grew deep and obvious, making her look older than her years. Another woman, Fenny, worked tirelessly on the man, but Iylla could see that she did not expect to win this fight. Silla became grim and silent, facing the inevitable with proud stoicism. She would not howl and tear out her hair over this loss as others might have done. Iylla stayed with her, drawn to this unfolding death scene with morbid fascination. There were so many aspects of life that she did not understand, and how people took their leave of it was almost as mysterious as the mechanism by which they 179

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arrived. She had only recently learned that Silla’s people were born from the bodies of their mothers, and not seeded by great trees. In the end, Rill’s passing was very different from the violent deaths Iylla had witnessed. His breathing slowed, each inhalation rattling in his chest. Silla held his hand, her expression calm. Stillness descended like a thick fog, bringing silence with it. Nothing moved, no-one spoke. Rill took a shuddering breath, and there was a long period of waiting before the next. Iylla found she could hardly breathe herself as she waited. His chest did not rise again. “His spirit is gone,” Fenny said. Silla bowed her head over the body of her father, remaining silent as she wrapped one arm around her middle. She did not let go of his hand for a long time. Iylla knew there was nothing whatsoever she could do or say that would help. It felt to her as though a very long time passed before Vin broke the silence. “What now?” he asked. “I won’t give him over to the fire,” Silla said, her cheeks deathly pale as she raised her head. “We could out him into the earth,” Fenny suggested. “I think that would be for the best,” Silla said. “I need some time with him, can you leave me please?” Those not related to the dead man moved away, giving Silla the space she had requested. Digging proved hard. All of the adults worked together, using hands to clear the ground, and shards of stone to break up the earth. Roots of trees and other plants knotted deep into the soil, stubbornly resisting all efforts to uproot them. Soon the sweat was pouring from their bodies, and they were all streaked with mud. No one complained or countered Silla’s intentions. Rill had, to some degree or another, been a presence in all of their lives for as long as any could remember. He had been the oldest of their number, and his demise meant a grievous loss to them all. After a time, Vin began to sing. At first his voice was low, barely above humming as they worked on the grave. The mournful melody became a part of the digging, setting the slow pace of their work. Gradually, he raised the volume of his tune, scattering words through it like pebbles in a river. Captivated, Iylla paused in her efforts, feeling his song catch at her heart. It reminded her of the Restall, and her devastatingly beautiful music. This was loss and anguish given form. Memories of snake and woman rose up in her, and the snake-song, half remembered, half imagined washed through her awareness. Iylla let 180

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it flow through her lips and out into the world, her voice eerie with it as her own song twined around Vin’s. She was caught in it, powerless to stop this music that possessed her. Iylla heard herself singing, barely able to believe this uncanny sound emanated from her own body. She had never tried to raise her voice before. It was as though some power beyond herself reached through to fashion the notes and craft the haunting phrases. She felt heavy and sluggish, as though her body was turning to clay while her voice rang clear and free. She did not mind, there was no denying the song, come what may. Opening her eyes, Iylla realised that everyone else had stopped digging. They watched her, expressions rapt, faces streaked with grime and tears. The hole before her was deep enough to take a man. When had they dug so deep? The song was fading on her lips, dying away to a whisper and she could no more prevent its leaving her than she could have stopped it overtaking her. The song’s passing left her languid, as though she had been making love, not voicing a song of keening grief. They brought Rill’s remains to the hole, and lowered him gently in. Silla placed his spear by his side, and the children sprinkled leaves and flowers over him. Using their hands, they all set about gathering up the dirt they had excavated, and covering the man over. This was slow work undertaken in heavy silence, until at last all trace of the man had gone, and only bare soil remained to mark the place where he lay. “We never took the time to properly mourn those who died when we were attacked,” Silla said. “I think the time has come for us to do that, even though we cannot name the dead.” Iylla frowned at this. She had known not to name the dead with the same certainty that told her how to breathe and when to pass water. Evidently the same was not true for these people, and they had only recently discovered the taboo. That, she thought, was rather interesting.

**** Iylla was awake before the dawn. It was still dark, but in the nearby trees, birds were already finding their voices. She could hear movement. Poised ready to move if needs be, she listened carefully, hearing the crunch of hesitant footsteps. The wanderer stumbled and swore. Iylla relaxed a little, recognising the voice as Silla’s. Rising to her feet, Iylla studied the gloom and found she could just determine the outline of nearby forms. In subtle shades, the light was gaining and darkness would soon melt away. Moving with cautious stealth, Iylla reached Silla’s side, making the older woman jump. “Who is it?” “It’s me Silla,” Iylla reassured her. 181

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“I couldn’t sleep,” Silla explained, although this was all too obvious. “I thought I would go and…” She did not finish the explanation, lapsing into silence. Iylla’s instincts told her not to ask where Silla was going. “Would you like some company?” “That would be good. Thank you.” Together they stumbled through the darkness. Iylla’s bare feet had the advantage over Silla’s covered ones. She could feel where the narrow path ran, the soft bare earth distinctly different from the tangling plant life to either side of it. Silla stumbled continually, and it was only the firm support of Iylla’s hand that kept her from falling. Although the land was in darkness still, the river glowed slightly, reflecting the first suggestion of light in the sky above. By the time they reached its murmuring expanse, the nearby trees were appearing as indistinct shades amongst the black. Each breath brought day a little closer and made the world increasingly comprehensible. Iylla could discern enough to realise Silla was seeking her father’s grave. Looking around, Iylla tried to recall exactly where it had been, but could not. That’s odd, she thought. We only dug it yesterday, it must be here. She studied what little she could see of the nearby trees, feeling very perplexed indeed. Something was wrong, and she thought perhaps this was not the spot after all, or that the gloom was confusing her. Silla wandered down to the water’s edge, and leaned on one of the trees, apparently watching the waters glide by. Iylla kept her distance, studying the slope of Silla’s shoulders as the gaining light brought her figure into clearer view. She was only wearing one skin, cast loosely about her shoulders. The absence of attire gave her a vulnerable air. Hues of gold and crimson transformed the river into liquid fire for a brief while as the sun broke the horizon. Iylla turned slowly, reassessing her location. This was certainly the spot where they had dug on the previous day, there was no mistaking it. One of the nearby trees was broken at the top, and the trunk resembled the head of a gwiber. Only a little to its left was a flowering tree whose blossoms perfumed the air. Where then was the bare earth they had dug, and the grave? “I was certain this was the place,” Silla said as she drew closer. “It is,” Iylla said. “Then where…?” “I was wondering that too.” They stood silently for a while. “It should be over there, just in front of that stand of withies,” Silla said. They walked towards that spot, looking about them for signs of disturbed earth. 182

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“I don’t remember this tree,” Iylla said, “which is odd, because I can remember all the others.” Silla crouched down, touching her hand to the soil. “There’s been digging here,” she said. Iylla squatted at her side. Now there was light, she could see perfectly well where they had worked to make the grave. The absence of undergrowth made it all too obvious. The only problem was that in the centre of the place that should have been Rill’s grave, a sizeable tree was growing. “Does anything in the forest grow so quickly?” Silla asked. “Not that I know of.” “I don’t know what this means.” “Silla, I think we ought to go back and fetch Leon. He might know.”

**** Leon stared at the new tree for a long time. He was entirely certain he had never seen another plant like it in all of Estraguil. The women were right – it was precisely where they had buried Silla’s father. “I know what this looks like,” he said, “but I don’t know how it’s happened.” “Talk to me,” Silla requested. “If Iylla were to die and we put her in the soil, she would grow a tree. It might be one I already know, it might not. She is a seed of sorts. I suspect she might grow a very special tree, which is why the Drays do not like having their seeds buried in the wider forest. They were taking their dead back to the heartwood. Those who are left exposed, whose flesh rots away and whose bones are scattered will not germinate.” “That’s very strange,” Silla said. “Only forest creatures, fruited from the first trees are seeds. Your father was an outsider, he was not of the forest. He should have done nothing but decay in peace, but none the less, he appears to have germinated and become a new tree.” Silla remained silent for some time, carefully considering this development. “Will the same thing happen to all my people do you think?” “Only time will tell.” “I wonder if I should bury again or not.” “That must be for you to decide. Do what seems right to you.” Leon fell quiet for some time, gazing in wonder at the withies that had sprung up overnight. “It makes me question everything I thought I knew about this place,” he added. As they walked back to the camp for the second time that morning, Iylla took a deep breath and announced that the time had come for her to depart. Those were hard 183

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words to utter, and she braced herself against Silla’s response. The woman’s silence was hard to contend with. They returned to the waking camp with nothing said. “What were you up to without me?” Vin asked, the smile on his lips belied by the concerned look in his eyes. “There is something I must show you,” Silla said. “We have been touched by a mystery.” “Vin, I am sorry, but I must leave. I’ve delayed long enough,” Iylla said. Iylla looked him in the eye as she spoke, and watched his attention transfer to Silla, then return to herself. “I know,” he said. Turning, Iylla looked into Silla’s eyes, and felt her heart crack within her. This was too hard to do, too painful. It was necessary to go - the cry of her own people was so loud in her mind that it could no longer be denied. Still, she loved these two as she had loved no others. They were her first, and had gifted her with so much in their time together. Iylla wanted to cling to them and never let them go. Instead, she clutched some of her feathers between he fingers, pulling on them slightly, needing the physical pain to help her stay in control of her spiralling emotions. For a while it worked, enabling her to maintain her self-possession. Then she felt one of the feathers pull free, and winced with discomfort. The feather was black against her hand, and she looked at it for a moment, grasping for inspiration. Then she reached out, and tucked the feather behind Silla’s ear, so that it could nestle in her hair. It seemed like the right thing to do. Knowing that if she waited any longer, her courage would fail, Iylla picked up her few possessions and bundled them up in the duffet pelt. She turned away without another word, walking into the forest. She did not look back, but kept her shoulders square and her head high as she walked even though she was shaking. Iylla could hear Leon’s steady footfall behind her and the crackle of fire, but nothing else. The desire to look back, to turn back even was fierce, but she held firm. This I must do she chanted over and over in her thoughts. When they were out of sight from Silla’s camp, Leon took Iylla’s hand and held it tightly. He said nothing, and she was grateful for his silence. They simply continued to walk, travelling side by side wherever the path would allow it. There were no words that could comfort her. The choices she had to make were hard ones, they always had been, and would remain so for as long as she lived. This Iylla knew with cold certainty, although she could not have said why. “What now?” Leon asked, his tone warm and reassuring. 184

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“I do not know. I have no idea where they might have gone, if there are many groups, or one, if we seek a handful of survivors or an army.” “What does your heart tell you?” “That we will find them, but I do not know how.” Iylla fought to control her voice, even though she could hear it cracking. She was lost and fearful, but could not let this break her. Leon turned the duffet pelt over in his hands. “Nothing moves faster than these creatures, nor travels more easily through the forests.” “Then perhaps it is time I made us a pair of duffet masks,” Iylla said. It was better to have something definite to think about and she wasted no time in setting to work.

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Bryn Colvin

Chapter Twenty-Nine

From the first, there was no doubt in Iylla’s mind: She was dreaming. The place before her was one she had seen before, but she could not recall when. Around her were figures made of rock. These too seemed familiar. Most were roughly formed; mere suggestions of people, but several had very distinct features. She saw Silla, with what looked like a twig in one hand, and in the other, a long stave bent into a taut curve by some sort of thong. Iylla had no idea what to make of this. She saw there was a feather in Silla’s hair, perched above her ear. Reaching out, Iylla caressed the stone, feeling its cold smoothness beneath her hand. Aside from one, all of the figures looked unfamiliar. Iylla wished there was some representation of Light, Branch or Jewel here. She was sure one of them at least must live, and any clue to their condition and location would have helped her considerably. Eventually, she turned to the stone image of herself. It was not a comforting thing to look upon, and she could only wonder what its purpose might be. Touching the stone replica of her face did nothing to alleviate her anxieties. This was a cold, hard thing that showed no inclination to yield its secrets. “Why am I seeing this?” she asked aloud. “Because you need to,” her own voice replied. The rock before her did not seem to have moved, but Iylla was disorientated by hearing herself. The voice was unmistakably her own, but it sounded peculiar, originating as it did beyond her body. Before her eyes, the rock grew soft and malleable, acquiring a spectrum of colours. The creature Iylla faced was a living, moving replica of herself, perfect in every detail. The figure turned, facing beyond the wall. Iylla followed. Beyond and beneath, Estraguil lay as a vast expanse of green. As she looked, Iylla saw a lone tree, red of bark and dark of leaf. It stood on a high piece of ground, where the soil was rocky and reddish brown. Beneath this tree sat Light, looking out over the forest. Iylla called out, but her words were lost, as though she had shouted into heavy fog. Light showed no signs of hearing. Iylla wished she had her medri mask. Light was so close that it would be easy to fly there. Running her hands over her body, Iylla found she was entirely naked. Shout as she might, she could not make Light hear her. 186

STRANGE FRUIT

She woke with a sudden jolt, and for a little while had no sense at all of where she was. Leon’s arm slid across her stomach and she felt the familiar warmth of his body press against her side. Wherever else she might be, he was with her, and the knowledge of it enabled her to grow calm. “Dreams?” Leon asked. “Yes.” He stroked her cheek, his fingers soothing away the tension from her jaw. “I dreamed of a tower, and people made of rock. Does that mean anything to you?” “Nothing whatsoever, but that merely tells us its meaning falls beyond what I know.” “I dreamed of Light, sitting in a high place under a red tree.” “Then we must take up different masks and go flying my love,” Leon told her. “You think it is true then, that I dreamed of where they are?” “All forest dreams are true, one way or another.” “But how do you tell which way Leon?” “That’s the tricky part,” he admitted. “I’m in the mood to fly,” Iylla said, sorting her medri masks from amongst the others. “Perhaps today we will find them.” “Perhaps.” The seasons had turned full cycle since Iylla was separated from her fellow seeds. Not a day passed but she speculated that this might be the one when they were re-united. Leon never discouraged her, never doubted her. Today there was something in the air. Today could be the day when they at last made contact with others of Dray’s creatures and thus concluded their long quest.

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Bryn Colvin

About the Author

Bryn Colvin is a British author with a passion for all things strange. This is her first foray both into joint writing, and to working with the lovely people at Venus Press. She has other work published online, and in paperback anthologies. Also available from Bryn Colvin and Venus Press… Victorian Taboo Illyan Daughter Midsummer Madness

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